


Genuflect

by VulgarSequins



Series: Devoted to only you [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Aggressive Daryl, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Biting, Blasphemy, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Bottom Rick, Comeplay, Comfort/Angst, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Lori Grimes/Rick Grimes, Orgasm Denial, Porn with Feelings, Rickyl Writers' Group, Rutting, Self-Doubt, Series Spoilers, Smut, Some Plot, Spit As Lube, Submissive Rick, Top Daryl, Torture, Violent Daryl, Voyeurism, possible sub drop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5741950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulgarSequins/pseuds/VulgarSequins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exhausted Rick wanders to the small church they thought Sophia would be in to have a moment alone and pray to a deity that may or may not exist in this world anymore. Daryl follows him there to make sure he stays safe and ends up helping him relax while committing some sins and blasphemy in a world that's gone to Hell. Rick is realizing this is just the beginning of giving his flesh over to the hunter to take and take and take...</p><p>Takes place during season 2, starting at episode 4 "Cherokee Rose".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holy Water

**Author's Note:**

> I saw Madonna the other night and when she performed "Holy Water" these two just kinda cartwheeled into my head. (Not to mention S.E.X. made me want to write them more)
> 
> This started as just an excuse to write dominate/top Daryl because I need more of it in my life. I don't really think that needs a tag, but I mean, I guess some people like knowing what they are getting in to? I wanted Daryl to be more aggressive/blunt and not like the quiet/passive archer we all may be used to. Hopefully they don't seem too out of character and I didn't butcher the English language too much trying to make Daryl a redneck.
> 
> Kudos, comments, and all that jazz are welcomed with open arms while I tap dance my way to Hell for writing this with my beta, Finalomen.

“Please give me a sign that I’m doing the right thang.”

Rick questioned the marbled crucified figure, not knowing why he spoke to him anymore, even now when he was alone in the church they had found a few days ago while looking for Sophia. He was losing complete faith in the savior before him. First he was shot and put in a coma, then the world went to complete shit, Sophia lost all because of him, and finally Carl had been shot as well under his watch. His son. His fragile boy. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping it would help ease the sudden pressure that assaulted his forehead that over took him. He was still recovering from giving Carl so much of his blood. Rick would have bled himself dry if it meant his son would wake up sooner and smile at him. He rested his hands on the wooden alter before him, letting out a heavy exhale. 

“At least you let the others make it to the farm safely… And brought Shane back to me. He saved Carl.” Rick had never felt so much relief when he saw Shane carrying supplies. The guilt of not being bothered to feel sadness about Otis had come later and weighed heavy on him once Hershel had finished Carl’s surgery. Shane did not come back unscathed and he will never lie about having selfish relief in his heart about that. He would rather have Shane hurt than dead. 

“I guess it’s the small blessings, right?” Rick let out a weak chuckle that sounded more like a broken sigh. His grip tightened on the wooden banister. His thoughts shifted to his group. The world was never kind, but this newer, chaotic one was down right brutal. Sophia was still gone, though Daryl seemed ever optimistic that he would find her, while Carol was broken. Andrea was grieving the loss of her sister and still on edge with Dale. Lori had slipped back into her hot cold temperament towards him like before he was shot. Now Hershel was pressing the issue of them leaving once Carl was well enough. Rick knew he would have to show Hershel reason. His group was depending on him to lead and protect them. They couldn’t make it out there. They could help around the farm, they were more than willing to pull their weight around. They couldn’t leave. Sophia was still gone.

“Please…” Rick glanced back up at the serene face of Jesus despite his tortured death. “Please let that little girl be safe… Please let Daryl find her. Let Shane be wrong about it being useless-“

“He’s a useless horse’s ass.”

Rick whipped around at the gruff voice, gun immediately drawn to the source. Daryl stood in the center of the church, not even flinching at the weapon drawn on him. His eyes looked like the night sky and were narrowed at Rick. The officer had not even heard the redneck enter the church. Never heard the door open or shut. No footsteps. Daryl was more dangerous than anyone gave him credit for and he was starting to realize he was forgetting that. 

“What’re you doing here?” Rick’s voice was a pitched slightly higher. “How long have you been there?”

“Ya gonna lower that gun or gonna keep it aimed at me like yer gonna shoot the first chance ya get,” Daryl nodded his head to Rick’s python. Rick quickly lowered the gun and holstered it, mumbling an apology. Daryl started walking his way towards Rick, his eyes never leaving him and his footsteps still just whispers on the red carpet leading to the alter. “Ya ain’t the only one to take night walks, Officer. Saw ya walking this way. Followed to make sure ya didn’t do somethin’ fuckin’ stupid.”

“I can handle myself,” Rick bristled slightly at Daryl’s words. He wasn’t an idiot and obviously had not walked away from the farm unarmed. Daryl just shrugged when he stopped in front of him, Rick’s eyes briefly glancing to Daryl’s muscled shoulders when he made the motion before snapping back to his face. 

“Can’t track for shit, though. Figured yer ass would get lost tryin’ to come back,” one of Daryl’s brows raised as if challenging Rick to argue with his last point. When Rick didn’t say anything, he continued. “Yer exhausted and wanderin’ in the woods to a church. I don’t need to be lookin’ for two people lost in these damn woods with those dead bastards out roamin’. Don’t make my job harder, Rick.”

“I would have been fine,” Rick turned away from Daryl to look back at the alter. “You’d keep looking for Sophia. She’s the one that’d need you more.”

“Look for ya first,” Daryl now stood beside Rick, gazing up at the figure Rick was praying to earlier. “If I had to choose.”

Rick flinched slightly at Daryl’s words. They were spoken clearly, not in the mumble he usually used to communicate with their group, Daryl wanting Rick to hear them. Rick looked over at Daryl and studied his profile. The redneck continued to look upwards, almost as if he did not notice Rick’s attention. Or didn’t care. Daryl’s face and neck had a shine of sweat covering his skin. His dark blond, or was it light brown, hair damp and barely plastered to his forehead. Rick’s eyes caught the motion of his Adam’s apple shifting when he swallowed. 

Rick’s gaze went south, trying to not look at Daryl’s stretched neck but that made things worse, or better. Now he could admire his sculpted arms. Daryl’s arms had been the first thing Rick noticed when they met and they had been making guest appearances in his restless dreams. Rick shuddered at fleeting visions of a grunting, naked Daryl that shamed him and he brought his attention forward again. He mumbled an apology to Jesus for beginning to think impure thoughts on holy ground. Thoughts a married, straight man should not think.

_Straight? Still calling yourself that after dreaming of the hick beside you bending you-_

Rick’s fingers met with the bridge of his nose again, letting out a frustrated curse to himself.

“Ya all right?” Daryl’s attention finally went to Rick, not knowing if Rick was reacting to his words or something else. “Just tellin’ ya the truth. ‘Course Shane would probably give us the same shit ‘bout Sophia. It being useless-“

“Ain’t that,” Rick sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Just… exhausted. Too much on my mind with everything. This world, our group, Sophia, my family… Carl.”

“Ya need to settle. Yer gonna push yerself too far and collapse or some shit,” Daryl turned his whole body to Rick, a firm grip placed on Rick’s shoulder. “Find ya half eaten in the woods like everyone else we find and then yer just as fuckin’ useless as Shane.”

“You really don’t like him,” Rick chuckled to try to lighten the mood. Daryl’s expression stayed serious. 

“Don’t care for him,” Daryl gave a half shrug, only looking away for a moment. “You though, ya need to relax for a day or somethin’ when I take ya back. So ya don’t become walker bait.”

“Relax?” Rick let out another easy chuckle at the thought. “How the hell do you expect me to do that with all that’s happening?”

“Yer boy is gonna be okay. Ya gave him enough blood that yer pale as fuck,” Daryl squeezed Rick’s shoulder but still did not let go. Rick felt like his hand was burning a brand through his clothes and on his skin. He had dreamed of that grip being further south on his body.

_Yeah, because a married straight man would think of this guy holding his hips while he rammed-_

“-in, or jerk off, man.”

“What?” Rick snapped back to the present at the trail of Daryl’s gruff words. He could feel his face heat up, his heart beat pick up the pace while he stared at Daryl with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Get laid, Rick,” Daryl raised a brow at Rick’s reaction. “Ya got Lori. Go fuck or somethin’ while Carl is up in the house. Pretty sure she’d be all right with a little grass in her hair. Lord knows it ain’t a first.” Daryl’s hand finally left Rick’s shoulder and his skin felt like ice when he lost the contact. Daryl’s tone wasn’t playful at the mention of Lori and his wording made Rick pause. Daryl had even looked away from Rick, avoiding his eyes with a guarded expression, biting at his thumb. Rick noticed that as a sign of anxiety. One of Daryl’s tells he was starting to learn.

“Easier said than done,” Rick rubbed the back of his neck. “Doubt she wants me touching her right now and I’m pretty sure she would get pissed if I asked her to… well, you know. I can’t believe we are talking about this and here.” 

“Why?” Daryl was looking back at him, and Rick immediately felt better about that. 

“Well, first we are in a church,” Rick motioned to the figure of Jesus to his right. “Second, I feel like this is guidance I would be getting from Shane. Not you. No offense. He just always thought he could help with Lori and my sex life, or lack of it, depending on the day.” 

“First, pretty sure this place don’t give two shits if we talk about us fuckin’, Rick,” Daryl’s words were gruff. Rick felt heat shoot straight down his spine at the choice of wording. Surely he didn’t mean for it to sound the way it came out. “Second, don’t bring up Shane when I’m the one tryin’ to help ya out with more than bull shit words about how to fuck yer wife the way he would.”

Daryl was suddenly toe to toe with Rick, crowding him back into the banister, the wood brushing against the back of his thighs. Rick’s hands gripped the wood tightly, eyes wide at the close proximity of their bodies, only having been this close once before in Atlanta. Rick was so taken by surprise that his mind didn’t bother catching the undertones of what Daryl was saying about Shane and Lori. He just noticed his dick twitching in his pants when Daryl leaned closer in to his space. “Better yet, don’t even mention yer wife.”

“How is this help,” Rick blushed slightly at the hushed whisper his question took. He cleared his throat to try a normal volume. “Daryl, what’re you doing?”

“Helpin’ ya,” Daryl now had Rick trapped against the banister, his arms caging him in when he placed then on the wood outside Rick’s own. His body was still not touching Rick’s, but there was a magnetic charge between their bodies. Daryl’s face was barely an inch from Rick’s, his eyes predatory. Rick started to question if this was real or he had in fact passed out in the church somewhere. It had to be real because there was sudden pressure against the front of his pants. Rick hadn’t even realized he was hard until Daryl squeezed the obvious tent he was sporting, Rick’s body jolting at the sensation and pressing further back into the banister. “Always relaxed as shit after gettin' a hand job.”

“Daryl!” Rick grabbed Daryl’s wrist and yanked his hand away from his crotch. “You can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Daryl narrowed his eyes at Rick but didn’t move from his spot, still keeping Rick trapped. 

“Because I’m straight” Rick’s voice lacked all confidence it normally had sported. 

_Could have fooled yourself, Grimes. What happened to the married response?_

The firm leader shook ever so slightly on weak legs. Daryl forced one of his thighs between Rick’s bow legs, pressing up and against his hard on. Rick’s body betrayed him by pushing into the touch and letting out a surprised groan. One corner of Daryl’s mouth quirked up in a smug look at the noise before he leaned to the side of Rick’s head. His chapped lips brushed against Rick’s ear when he spoke in a low rumble that reminded Rick of thunder.

“That why I catch ya lookin’ at me? Ya stare an awful lot, Rick, to just be some straight shooter cop. Ya think I don’t notice ya eye fuckin’ me? Ya wanted my cock back in Atlanta when ya tried tellin’ me what to do when we were lookin’ for Merle. That alpha male bull shit ya tried to pull,” Daryl tested Rick’s grip and was pleased to feel it had gone slack. He took the opportunity and shifted his hand back to Rick’s cock to squeeze, smirking when Rick let out another moan. His teeth found Rick’s ear lobe and he tugged just hard enough to cause Rick to tilt his head in the direction he wanted. “Best ya forget about ever getting me to bend over for ya. Yer asshole cop buddy and ya-“

“Don’t wanna bend you over,” Rick moaned again when he rocked his hips into Daryl’s hand and thigh. The pressure of Daryl’s palm set a fire in his veins. He turned his head to look at Daryl when he felt his ear was no longer being chewed on.

“Fuckin’ doubt that,” Daryl tilted his head back to look down his nose at Rick, studying him with narrowed eyes. “That cock of yers tellin’ me otherwise.”

Rick felt light headed. He felt like he was going to black out any moment, his breathing heavy. He could feel his shirt sticking to him, his body temperature rising the longer Daryl stayed close to him; the longer he kept touching him. He knew he should be pushing him away. Rick should be yelling, punching, kicking, anything. He should be telling this man that he had come to trust with his family’s lives, to get away. He couldn’t do this. He had a son. He had a wife. Lori.

_She doesn’t have to know. Not like she wants to do this to you anymore…_

Thoughts of Lori were fleeting. His brain no longer giving a damn about the delicate woman he had been married to since he was 19. Instead focused on the firm man that was glaring at him but still had refused to let go of his dick. Glaring at him the same way he did when they first met. When he broke the news about his brother being cuffed to a roof and who did it. That first minute Rick felt his gut drop at the instant attraction he felt. Guilt and shame be damned. He could deal with it later. The world had gone to shit and his morals with it.

“Don’t wanna bend you over, Daryl,” Rick swallowed hard. “Believe me, haven’t thought of doing that to you.”

“Bull shit,” Daryl tensed only slightly, his defenses starting to go back up. “Then why are ya lettin’ me feel ya up?”

“I… You-“ Rick’s eyes shifted down to Daryl’s mouth, staring longer than he had initially anticipated. When he looked back in to Daryl’s eyes, the younger man’s pupils were blown. “You ain’t the one doing the bending when I think about it.” 

Before Rick could blink, Daryl was on him. His lean body shoved against Rick’s, the wooden alter pressing hard in to his legs. Rick let out a sharp gasp and Daryl took that chance to smash his mouth on to Rick’s. It wasn’t a kiss, far from it. There was too much teeth involved. It was painful but intoxicating. Daryl had Rick’s bottom lip in between his teeth and tugged harshly, a deep groan escaping his throat when he rocked his hips against Rick’s. Rick let out a pathetic moan when he felt Daryl’s length rub against his hip, the material of his pants doing a poor job at hiding Daryl’s size. 

Rick rocked his hips against Daryl’s in an attempt to get more friction, his hands gripping the wood behind him. The church echoed softly their panting and grunts back to them. The sound of Rick’s zipper sounded like glass shattering in his ears, his eyes darting down their bodies to see Daryl had snaked his hand back between them. Daryl flicked the button loose while biting at Rick’s jawline, hips still rolling against Rick’s own.

“Daryl, you can’t,” Rick’s eyes widened at Daryl’s hand forcing its way into his pants, under his boxers. He couldn’t bite back the gasp when he felt calloused hands wrap around his leaking cock, prevent the involuntary buck forward into the touch. “Shit. Daryl-“

“Pretty sure I can, Rick,” Daryl practically growled in Rick’s ear. “Tell me ya don’t want this. Tell me ya don’t want me helpin’ you out. Tell me ya don’t want me to make ya fuckin’ come and I’ll stop. I’ll walk away and leave ya-“

“God no, please,” Rick whimpered, pushing his hips into Daryl’s hand and grabbed at Daryl’s thick forearm. Daryl’s muscles shifted under nails that were digging into his skin while he continued to stroke Rick’s cock. He could feel the smirk Daryl had pressed against his sweat drenched temple. Rick opened his mouth to say or beg for more, whatever kept Daryl’s hand on his cock, but was cut off by a hiccup. Daryl’s hand started working him in firm, quick strokes. The angle was off and he was slightly uncomfortable with his cock and Daryl’s hand still trapped in his boxers. That all quickly didn’t matter when Daryl’s tongue graced Rick’s neck and his thumb rubbed the head of his cock. Rick let out a loud moan at the sensation, precome having been steadily gathering at the tip and now slicking the path of Daryl’s hand. 

Rick rolled his hips against Daryl, panting, looking down at Daryl’s hand disappearing in his pants on the downstroke. His fist came back in to view each upstroke, squeezing the head of his cock that had slipped out of the waistband of his boxers. His legs felt like they were going to give, his body strung tight; he wasn’t going to last long at all. Then Daryl had to speak.

“Should’a made ya beg more,” Daryl’s voice dripping Southern honey in Rick’s ear. “Knew ya wanted it, but didn’t know ya wanted it this bad. Yer fuckin’ needy as a whore, Rick. Bet I could make ya drippin’ wet. Make ya want it so bad, do anythin’ I say. Ain’t that right?”

“Yes,” Rick shuddered. It was coming. His heart was racing. His mind going in to over drive to produce images Daryl spoke of, to keep feeling that rough hand jerking him harshly in his pants. To burn it into memory. “Christ, yes. Anything, Daryl.”

“Maybe next time I’ll put ya up on that fuckin’ alter,” Daryl’s hand squeezed harder around Rick’s cock, the sounds of what he was doing to his fearless leader echoing off the walls. His free hand left the wood banister behind Rick only to tangle fingers into Rick’s curled locks, pulling on the strands to make Rick tilt his head back slightly so he could lick at Rick’s skin when he wanted. “Spread ya wide on display. Mark ya up with my mouth like yer mine. Bury my fingers in that tight ass and make ya come all over yerself here in church. Make ya fuckin’ scream my name, Rick. Like yer praying to God.”

Daryl’s name sounded like the shot in the forest when Rick yelled suddenly. Rick’s hips bucked involuntarily in a rhythm that was lost to pleasure. His back arched, pressing his body against Daryl’s. His neck stretched on display for Daryl when his head was tugged further back by Daryl’s firm grip on his curls. His cock jerked in Daryl’s hand as it emptied, coating Daryl’s still rapid moving fist. Rick’s eyes rolled back, choking off another loud moan with the overwhelming feeling of his blissed out orgasm. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was Christ, surely looking on in disappointment at the adultery Rick just committed with a man that had a touch like the devil. 

Daryl stopped his hand when Rick whimpered and flinched at the oversensitivity his cock was starting to feel in his touch. Daryl let go of his tight grip on Rick’s hair, brushing his fingers through the curls once before dropping his hand away. Rick took a few deep breaths to gather his thoughts, let his heart return to a much slower, normal beat before lifting his head back up to look at Daryl. He was thankful for the banister that had no doubt bruised the back of his legs, because he was sure that if it wasn’t there he would have collapsed. 

Daryl wore a smirk on his face while he watched Rick compose himself. His thin lips telling him nothing but sin laid there. He shifted his hand out of Rick’s pants and Rick winced at the feel of come coating his softening dick and his boxers. The walk back to the farm was going to be that much more uncomfortable. Of course, that feeling would pale in comparison to the impact of guilt and regret that was sure to come when the realization of what Daryl had just done to Rick, what Rick wanted him and allowed him to do to him, slammed into his conscience. Those feelings would undoubtedly be followed by the headache of trying to figure out why this just happened and what it meant for the relationship between himself and Daryl. Did their dynamic even change? This was a one time thing. It had to be. Rick couldn’t let it happen again.

But Daryl mentioned a next time.

_You’re a damn liar if you think you ain’t gonna want it again…_

His thoughts screeched to a halt when he noticed Daryl looking at his hand. Rick’s come glistened across his knuckles and dirty, scarred fingers. Daryl’s dark stormy eyes met with Rick’s pale ice ones. His eyes widened and he let out a soft gasp when Daryl lifted his hand to his own mouth, dragging his tongue across his middle finger. His eyes never leaving Rick’s.

“Tastes like Holy Water…” 


	2. Kiss it Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as Rick would have loved to hold Daryl to his promise of another visit to the church, it just wasn't in the cards. Instead, Daryl is severely injured while looking for Sophia and then shot in the head by Andrea. Guess that's what happens when you come walking to camp looking like a walker.
> 
> However, Rick intends to check on Daryl while discussing what happened the night before. Those plans are put on hold as well when Daryl has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since most of the comments I got with the first chapter were along the lines of wanting more, totally decided that I would. Just gives me an excuse for more power top Daryl. Hope to update this story at least every Sunday due to my insane work schedule. (consider this 2 hours early.)
> 
> That being said, watch out for tags changing/being added. This chapter touches on homophobia/derogatory terms and briefly on past child abuse. That being said, skip through stuff dealing with just Daryl and you should be ok.
> 
> Mad love goes out to my beta, Finalomen and my cheerleader, zombae. Seriously. This wouldn't be as fun to write if I didn't have these two sending me caps lock messages that I'm doing a decent job at this writing thing. Kudos, comments, shouts are welcomed. Enjoy more smut

_I can’t do this_

Rick took a shaky inhale and rubbed his temples. The last twenty four hours of his life felt like a whiplash of events, emotions, and the potential mental crisis that he couldn’t get a grip on. Almost everyone he felt close to in his life, though the count was quite small now since before his stint with a coma, had thrown a fire hot situation for him to juggle. 

He was thankful that Carl’s trauma was turning into just a close call and he was getting better with each passing day. Pretty soon he would be running through the fields of the farm and living a regular life of a child, or as close as he could get in the absolutely fucked world. 

Unfortunately in regards to Shane… Their argument in the woods did not settle the ever consuming pit in his stomach about his friend. He was a changed man. He’s starting to notice that Shane isn’t the Shane he grew up with; his best friend. However, he wanted to keep seeing Shane as that though; his brother. He had taken charge and saved his family when Rick couldn’t; when Rick was dead to the world in a hospital.

Though, the way Shane had mentioned taking care of Lori and Carl at the timing he did, sent a red flag up in Rick’s face. It was almost jarring for him to mention them when they had been talking (arguing) about Sophia.  

Along with that flag came the other one of Shane wanting to drop the search for Sophia. His reasoning that it was “wasting man power” was something old Shane would not have even thought. He would have been out there with Rick looking, rain or shine. It had happened before in a world that was just as dangerous; though hidden behind the mask of humanity.

There had been missing little boy, younger than Sophia by maybe four years, in their small town. Rick and Shane had been on the force for two years or so when the Amber Alert went out across the state. They looked for days, then weeks. Search parties from other counties came in to help find this boy. Shane was absolutely disgusted and enraged when they found the boy’s mangled body. What the killers, these animals, had done to him was unspeakable and fueled nightmares for them both. Rick was crushed and shaken up, trying to learn from this devastating lesson that some people are just born evil. It took some time to recover from that. 

But now his best friend was crying out for them to end this. Not even really using Sophia’s name; as if he had not known her longer than Rick had. Assuming she was already dead. 

_And maybe she is…_

No. Sophia could still be out there. She would be scared and alone, but alive. Rick would find her. He won’t stop looking and Daryl had made a point to not give up either. He wouldn’t if it was Carl. He wouldn’t be able to face Lori if that was their son out there that he had lost. 

Lori. She was a woman of different faces. One moment she is his rock, his support. The next, she’s looking at Rick with such disappointment that he can’t stand to look at her. Then there would be anger in her eyes. This morning he noticed sadness and regret, hesitation. He wondered if maybe he was trying to project his own mental turmoil onto Lori. Maybe he was just seeing in her eyes what he knew his own held. 

_But are you really sad about what happened last night? It’s in no way regret. You_ **_wanted_ ** _it._ **_Begged_ ** _him for it._

Rick shook his head and started walking further away from camp, his eyes scanning the tree line. Daryl was still out looking for Sophia. This morning he had acted like nothing happened between them the night before. Not as if Rick expected him to greet him with a slap on the ass or anything. He just…

Well, he didn’t really know what to expect.

After Daryl had licked his hand clean of Rick’s come (an image he would probably never forget) he just turned and started walking to the exit of the church, asking if Rick was going to head back or not. Rick quickly fixed his pants and attempted to make himself slightly more presentable before hurrying after the impatient redneck. He managed to stutter out a question about Daryl’s own need, if he wanted Rick to take care of him, or hell even give Daryl a few minutes to take care of himself, but he was met with silence. Daryl was already in tracker mode, body tensed, hands firmly gripping his crossbow, and listening to the night whispers when they stepped out of the church. Rick knew better than to push the subject anymore, or talk for that matter.

Daryl was in his element in the woods. Even if he wasn’t hunting, he was still listening to everything nature was telling him, what warning she was giving. Where to go, not to go, if that was an animal or death waiting for them. Rick kept as silent as he could, catching Daryl’s frustrated curses about Rick’s “fuckin’ thunder boots”. 

When they made it back to the farm, Daryl went straight for his little secluded spot he claimed for himself. Rick only noticed then that Daryl was still hard. That he lead them to camp, through the dark death trap, with an undoubtedly uncomfortable tent in his pants. Even in safety of the camp, he did not turn to Rick for help like he had given Rick at the church.

He placed his hands on his hips and arched his back, the sound of vertebrae popping the only noise around him. Maybe Daryl was embarrassed with what he did, what they did. Rick shook his head. Daryl was the perfect image of sexual confidence last night. Except when he had a quick doubt that Rick had not wanted what he was offering or even thought of Daryl sexually. That smirk of his returned the moment Rick implied that he was the one bending over for Daryl in his thoughts.

If Daryl regretted it, he would have acted cold. He wouldn’t have wanted to listen to anything Rick had to say about searching, or even attended the small gathering party before they split. Daryl’s tone didn’t have a touch of heat or venom in it when he countered Rick’s teasing about Chupacabra’s with the dead walking. Maybe last night was just a one-time thing. Heat flashed briefly between his legs when his mind replayed Daryl’s words without a moment’s hesitation. 

_“Maybe next time I’ll put ya up on that fuckin’ alter…”_

Rick shuddered, his eyes closing but barely blocking out light with how bright the sun was against his face. He chastised himself for starting to think about the encounter again. He couldn’t seem to stop. He hadn’t felt that exposed or craved something that wonderfully exotic in a long time. He hadn’t felt that open or that weak to a force as powerful as Daryl Dixon. Not to mention a man that made him feel like handing the reigns over, to submit without question. When he first met Daryl, little sparks of old wants and needs flickered up before he pushed them into locked cages of his mind. They had no place there or here. Not when he had just found his family again. 

But last night… Last night Daryl had come along and ripped apart steel walls that Rick erected around curiosity and taboo desires he had hid away for years. 

There was no point in dwelling on this, Rick snapped at himself. It was a one-time thing. It had to be. It was a weak moment. Pressure had gotten to him and he let it happen. It was his fault. He was married. He was straight. If Daryl approached him again, he would just have to-

“Walker! WALKER!” Andrea. Rick turned to look towards the RV before he bolted towards their camp, the other men doing the same. Rick prayed it was just one. He prayed that this wouldn’t get out of hand. He prayed his legs wouldn’t give out on him before he reached the walker first in the distance. Prayed he wouldn’t have to use his Python but once. Prayed people would fucking listen to him like he was their leader, like they kept fucking giving him the title he didn’t ask for. Prayed the walker wasn’t one of their own; wasn’t Sophia or Daryl.

But it was. It was Daryl. 

Rick’s heart stopped but his gun held firm and cocked. His stomach dropped at the look of the redneck dragging in front of him. Daryl had blood smeared all over his mouth and chin. He was completely covered in dirt and mud, articles of clothing missing or torn to shreds. Daryl’s narrowed eyes looked right at Rick’s. He could faintly hear Glenn ask if this was actually Daryl. 

“Fourth time ya pointed that thing to my head,” Daryl’s voice came out clear if not gritty and irritated. His body kept limping forward towards them, attention only focused on Rick. “Ya gonna pull the trigger or what?” 

Rick immediately lowered his gun and felt his shoulders relax. The tension lifted around them when the group of men realized that their comrade was still alive, if not severely injured, but at least not a walker. Rick shook his head, a smile sneaking on to his face from relief and something else that tightened up in his chest at seeing Daryl stumble towards them, a haggard smile on his own lips.

There was a loud crack, and Daryl went down. Rick shot forward, the pit in his stomach back and deeper than before, chest closing like a vice. He looked back and shouted for whatever reason. He kept shouting at the top of his lungs. Maybe to prevent any more shots? Maybe to that same deity he kept praying for to stop this sick game; shooting down people he cared for. His body and mind couldn’t take this back and forth. He didn’t notice Shane just looking back. Didn’t notice the others standing in shock. 

Rick dropped to the ground by Daryl’s head, heart racing and his hands shaking. Daryl was covered in so much blood already; it was hard for him to see where he had been shot. His hands stilled enough to reach out to Daryl’s face to check his head when he found the wound. He could almost throw up in relief when he saw that the bullet had only grazed Daryl’s temple. 

He went to touch it but Daryl’s own hand blocked it. Daryl winced when his fingertips slipped against skin and blood. When Rick realized Daryl was alive, he was okay, the world rushed back in around him. Shane was on the opposite side of Daryl, pulling something out of the redneck’s mouth while he grunted. Rick slipped his arm under Daryl’s shoulder, trying to heft him up while he watched Shane follow his lead. A spike of jealousy and protection ripped through Rick when he watched Shane’s hand touch Daryl’s jaw and neck before helping lift Daryl up. Rick tried to take most of Daryl’s weight, even going as far as to wrap his arm around Daryl’s chest to lift him against him.

“Was kidding…” Daryl gasped out before his face was pressed against Rick’s chest and going limp in their hold.

* * *

“Aw shit, Boy. Sleepin’ again? The fuck’s wrong wit ya?”

Bright white blinded Daryl when he opened his eyes, quickly wincing and regretting his actions. 

“Hey, I’m ‘bout ‘ta have a discussion wit ya, so keep yer fuckin’ eyes open.”

Daryl took a moment opening his eyes slower this time, looking up to Merle’s ugly mug. He furrowed his brows and sat up slightly, groaning at the pain his body shook with. His eyes scanned his surroundings, expecting to see the mud and river he first saw Merle in but instead was greeted by the sight of the farm and field. Then his brother’s legs. 

“Ya wit me now, Sleepin’ Beauty?” Merle had his smirk plastered on his face. “We gonna finish our talk we was havin’ out in the woods now that ya don’t have a fuckin’ arrow through ya or climbin’ up shit creek.”

“We got nothin’ to talk about, Merle,” Daryl glared up at his brother. He didn’t think he should be having another hallucination now that he was safe. Or he had hoped he was. Did he just imagine Rick running to him? His hand went to his temple and he felt wet there, looking down at his hand when he pulled away to see blood. That is where he was shot, last he remembered. Maybe he was dead. It was a headshot. Maybe Merle was greeting him to take him to Hell.

“Like hell we do,” Merle reached down and yanked Daryl up to his feet, the younger Dixon hissing in pain. “Ya listen to me good, Baby Brother. That shit I said back there? Still true. I need ta make sure ya get it through yer thick skull too.” 

“What shit, Merle,” Daryl barked back and jerked away out of Merle’s hold, ignoring the flare of pain. “Shit ‘bout being their errand boy? I ain’t! No one’s tellin’ me what to do. Or ya talkin’ bout the shit ya said ‘bout only you carin’ ‘bout me? That load of shit? I did right by ya!”

“Ya sure ‘bout that?” Merle was circling Daryl now, watching his every move. Daryl frowned and tried to follow his brother’s moves, remembering that this is an old dance they would do. Both of them higher than a kite and being fucking stupid, spewing words that cut almost as much as their daddy’s belt and bottles. “Out lookin’ for some girl Officer Friendly lost, but not ol’ Merle. I already told ya, Boy, ain’t nobody gonna care ‘bout ya but me. Yer just dog shit to ‘em. Ain’t yer kin. Yer just free labor for them”

“Ain’t blood, but they’ve done right by me,” Daryl glared at Merle, standing tall and holding his ground. “Ya don’t know them, Merle. they’re good people. ‘Specially Rick.”

“Ya seem to forget, Baby Brother, that pig’s pointed a gun at ya four times now,” Merle stopped circling Daryl when he noticed his stance. He put his hands on his hips and sniffed. “Fifth time, may turn into one of them accidental shootings cops like to do. Those dumb sheep will listen to ‘im or the other pig before ya. Ya know I’m right, Darleena.”

Daryl finally broke his eyes away from Merle’s glare, looking down at the grass. He raised his thumb to his mouth and started tearing at the skin there, his mind racing and trying to figure out if it should listen to his brother, or his own gut. Merle had to be wrong. He didn’t know them. But then again, did Daryl really know them? Rick was a good man. He even went back with Daryl to find his asshole brother. But it’s Rick that locked Merle up to begin with. Then again, Rick could have just shot Merle dead and lied to Daryl.

“Hey” Daryl’s head snapped to the side when Merle’s palm cracked across his cheek, grateful it wasn’t a fist. It wasn’t one of the harder hits his brother has given him in the past, but it was enough to light fire in his veins. “Ya hear me, Boy? Ya gonna put a bullet through that fucker’s skull for what he did to yer kin-“

“I ain’t doing shit,” Daryl shoved Merle away. “Ya left, Merle! Told ya, Rick and I came to get ya! He’s a good man! Better than you or me! He came runnin’ for me-“

“He thought ya were a dead bastard,” Merle growled and got in to Daryl’s face, his voice low and full of disgust. “Sounds ta me, ya got a lil’ crush on that pig. Do ya, Darleena? Ya really his bitch?”

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.”

“Soundin’ to me like ya are. That cop turned ya faggot?” Merle curled his lip up. Daryl’s head was spinning in rage and hurt because of his brother’s words and tone. It reminded him too much of his daddy. He couldn’t handle this from Merle too. “That why ya don’t care if I’m dead or alive? Too busy bendin’ over for that piece of shit cop?”

“Fuck you, Merle! I did right by ya! It’s not yer concern-” Daryl’s voice cracked. He felt too small compared to Merle. His vision was starting to blur. Merle’s fuzzy outline shifted into something larger, or maybe Daryl was shrinking. He had to look up at the figure now.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill ya,” the mass sounded too much like his daddy suddenly. It couldn’t be. He was dead. Been dead a long time. It lunged forward to Daryl, its fist cocked back in a swing. Daryl ducked and raised his arms up over his head, a reflex burned deep into his bones. He opened his mouth to scream but everything went black when the fist connected to his temple.

* * *

“Please, no!” 

Rick stumbled and fell backwards when his boot heel caught on the rug under him. His eyes were wide looking up from the ground where he had landed, watching Daryl hiss in pain before dropping back on to the bed and out of his line of eyesight. Rick stayed frozen in place, not wanting to move until Daryl spoke, afraid to take the brunt of another outburst from the younger man.

After the awkward dinner that he had to endure, Rick wanted to check on Daryl alone. When he and Shane had gotten him inside and cleaned up, at least enough for Hershel to stitch him up, everyone had surrounded the hunter to bombard him with different questions. Their group wanted to make sure that Daryl was okay or if he had any other news on Sophia when they saw T-Dog hold up her doll immediately after Daryl passed out. Daryl answered any questions asked of him, if short and barely able to conceal his annoyance. Rick left the room to give him time to rest, telling everyone else to do the same when he noticed Daryl’s shoulders tensing and his words turning more into grunts than actual English.

Of course he had to deal with Shane and Lori right when he walked out, but it was a brief moment of tension. He did not want to deal with the two of them; shutting down the argument of once again ditching all efforts of finding Sophia and walking away. He was able to avoid everyone else except Carl. He almost locked himself up in the room his son was staying in, but knew that was just asking for someone to come invade their moment. Once the disaster of dinner was over he figured he could try to go talk with Daryl. He wanted to see him. He had questions about what happened while Daryl was gone running through the woods and injuring himself. 

And if he was being truthful, he had questions about what had happened the night before and he did not need **anyone** overhearing that conversation. If he ever got in the position to ask Daryl anything.

Rick waited well until after Carol had come back from taking Daryl some food. When he entered the room, Daryl was asleep. His face was relaxed and he looked soft, years taken off of his face. Rick could feel his cheeks blush a little at the realization that he was staring. He bit his lip and shook his head, feeling a little too much like a creep. He turned to leave the room, thinking maybe he should just wait to talk to Daryl tomorrow. Conversations about what happened out in the woods could be put on hold, and maybe talking about secret hand jobs in a church was something that shouldn’t be brought back up to the light of day. It was already late in the night, most of his group at their campsite getting ready for bed while Hershel’s family was tucking in for the night.

When Rick reached the door he heard a noise back at the bed. He glanced over at Daryl’s sleeping form to see him shift in the bed, his brows furrowed. His voice making soft mumbles that were in no doubt frustration. Rick walked back to the bed, wondering if Daryl was having a night terror and if he should wake him up. He didn’t want Daryl hurting himself further and he knew as well as everyone else that they had seen enough gore in this life to fill five lifetimes full of nightmares. Rick leaned over Daryl’s body, studying him for a moment longer. The younger man started jerking his head, his body tensed. 

“Hey, Daryl,” Rick whispered softly, reaching out to touch his face. When Rick’s fingertips made contact with his temple, Daryl’s eyes snapped open and he shot up, screaming at Rick while scaring the Hell out of him.

Now he sat on the ground, no doubt his tailbone bruised from the fall, trying to figure out what to do. Was Daryl’s outburst a conscious decision or was it the trail end of the nightmare he was having? Maybe he was asleep again. Rick hadn’t heard any noises come from the bed aside from Daryl’s heavy breathing. 

“Daryl…?”

“Rick?”

Rick hefted himself off the floor, making sure to move slowly towards the bed. Daryl’s eyes watching his every move, but not looking angry. In fact, he looked slightly embarrassed, avoiding direct contact eye contact with Rick. When Rick stopped at the bed, he stayed quiet for the time being, just looking over Daryl’s body. He had pushed the sheet down far enough that his torso was exposed, revealing that he bleed through the bandage but it appeared to stop because the blood was dark and dry. 

Rick’s eyes shifted across Daryl’s dirty skin, noticing what looked like old, deep knotted scars across his chest, some peeking out from under the bandaging Hershel had wrapped around his waist. His heart ached at the implications of Daryl being hurt like this before, and from the looks of it, often. 

Daryl shifted in discomfort and Rick’s eyes went back up to his face. He didn’t say anything about the marks or ask what happened. He made sure his face was neutral as well, motioning back behind him. 

“I’m gonna get some water and a rag,” Rick nodded and quickly made his way out. He was greeted with a concerned Hershel but put any worry to rest about Daryl and his scream that caused alarm. After getting a rag and bowl of water from Patricia, Rick quickly made his way back to the room, making sure he shut and locked the door behind him. 

Daryl was sitting up against the headboard, his eyes immediately on Rick when he entered. The sheets were covering his bandages, but his chest still remained uncovered. He also didn’t look as shaken as he had a moment ago and Rick was thankful for that. Seeing Daryl panicked was unsettling. Rick didn’t think he even looked that way at the CDC when their lives were being counted down to minutes. 

“Ya gonna play nurse now? Kiss it better?” Daryl raised a brow when Rick set the bowl on the side table, watching the ex-deputies hands soak the rag and wring it out. 

“You haven’t gotten a good look at yourself,” Rick snorted and grinned at Daryl. “You look absolutely disgusting. Smell pretty rank too” He reached out to start wiping at Daryl’s face but Daryl flinched just slightly causing Rick to pause. 

“Ain’t that bad,” Daryl looked away briefly before looking back at Rick, catching his look that practically said “you’re kidding, right?”. Daryl then rolled his eyes, the motion pushing slight pressure on the back of his eyes. “Fine. I can do it, though. Hands ain’t broke.”

“Shit, I would pray to God they ain’t ever broken,” Rick snorted, a smile on his lips. Flashes of the church struck his mind and his smile was wiped off his face but a blush graced the tips of his ears. He held the wet rag out for Daryl. “Here then.”

Daryl took the rag from him, scrubbing at his face and neck but not before noticing Rick’s flush. He hid a smirk while rubbing the fabric across the back of his neck, knowing Rick was thinking the same thing he was when that name of their supposed almighty left his lips. Daryl’s chest tightened when Merle’s words bit the back of his mind but he shoved them away. He’s had years of practice when it came to forcing the unpleasant out of the present. 

“So, are you feeling better?” Rick’s voice was soft in the room. Daryl tried figuring out the tone of his voice, its cadence not familiar before it was directed towards him just now.

“Feel like shit. Like I got hit by a fuckin’ truck and left for dead.”

“But you’re not dead,” Rick sat on the edge of the bed, his hip touching Daryl’s thigh. “Which honestly, pretty glad you ain’t.”

“Why?” Daryl looked right at Rick, tossing the rag off into the bowl, ignoring the splash. 

“Well, you said so yourself,” Rick had a blinding, playful smile on his lips. “I can’t track for shit so everyone would be fucked if they relied on me for food out there.” 

“Ya are shit at tracking,” Daryl hummed in agreement, leaning back in to the pillows behind him. He watched Rick rinse out the rag in the now cloudy water, wringing it out once more and shifting back to the bed. Their eyes met again when Rick leaned forward with the rag still in his hand, not hesitating this time when he placed it on Daryl’s shoulder. The younger man hissed at the cool feel of it.

“Shit,” Rick jerked his hand back. “You hurt there too?” Daryl shook his head, muttering that it was just cold and not making a motion to stop him. Rick started scrubbing mud and blood off Daryl’s shoulder and collar, moving to the other shoulder. The two stayed quiet while he worked at trying to clean Daryl as best as he could given the situation. 

Rick’s eyes were glued to where his hand worked, focusing on his task with more attention than he had first set out to do. He had meant to ask Daryl questions but he had forgotten every last bit of them. He knew they had to do with what happened between them last night, but thinking of last night just brought the memories that made his cock twitch in his jeans. Rick shifted his hips only a fraction, using the guise of cleaning the rag to hide it. 

When Rick looked back at Daryl he noted that the other man had never taken his eyes off his face. Neither of them broke eye contact, even when Daryl spoke, his voice a low timber. 

“Ya gonna finish?”

“Do… Do you want me to?”

“Think you should finish the damn job ya came in here and started.” Daryl waved his arm down across his body. Rick’s eyes followed Daryl’s hand and sucked in a quiet gasp when he saw that Daryl had grown hard under the sheet. 

_So much for him only wanted a one-time only, Grimes._

Daryl smirked when Rick’s eyes dilated and his bit his lip. While he was distracted, Daryl reached to his side, sliding his hand up one of Rick’s inner thighs to his groin, squeezing the outline of Rick’s hardening cock through his jeans. 

_Oh fuck the one-time bull shit._

“This the reason ya came to see me, right,” Daryl’s tone almost came across as irritated, watching Rick’s face. His own face covered in a neutral mask. “Last night wasn’t enough? Could’ve woken me sooner if ya needed it that bad.”

_Aw shit. He thinks… Thinks I don’t…_

“W-wait, what?” Rick flinched a little, grabbing Daryl’s wrist, the irony not lost on him that this is exactly what had happened some twenty four hours ago, miles away. “No, Daryl, I came to check on you. To make sure you were okay. Not… Not for you to-“

“Ya saying you don’t want it?”

“Well… No, I’m not. I just… was worried. Seeing you like that today, thinkin’ you were one of those things scared the Hell out of me. Then when Andrea shot you, I thought you were dead. Almost lost it.” Rick swallowed hard, clenching his jaw, realizing his words came off pretty heavy. He was already kicking himself mentally when Daryl’s eyes narrowed as if he was studying him again; like in the church. He was screwing this up with every word that fell from his lips.

_Fuck, now he’s going to think I’m some crazy love sick jack ass…_

“Said so yerself, I ain’t dead,” Daryl’s tone went soft and lost its pained edge. “Gonna be alright. Had worse.”

“Tough son of a bitch,” Rick relaxed a little more, a gentle smile returning on his face. He let go of Daryl’s wrist and tried to ignore the disappointment when Daryl’s hand slid back to his own side. “Glad you’re gonna be okay. We need you with us. I need you- I mean, you’re help with the-“

“Take off yer pants.”

“E-Excuse me?” Rick’s brain short circuited and went to a sudden stop. His mouth hung open slightly as he stared at Daryl. The only part of his body that was with the program happened to be his dick, which swelled just that much more in the offending garment Daryl just told him to remove. 

“Didn’t stutter, Grimes,” Daryl nodded his head up, his darkening blue eyes moving down to Rick’s crotch when he did. “Take off yer pants. Underwear too. Don’t need ‘em.”

“Why?”

_Again with the dumb questions, Grimes?_

“‘Cuz I fuckin’ told you to,” Daryl’s voice was firm.

Rick stood from the bed anyway and shuddered at his voice. Daryl tilted his head a little at the motion, wondering if this time Rick was going to react in the way a married “straight” man should act; punching him right in the eye. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a pleased smirk when Rick did just the opposite of what he was expecting, a low thud echoing in the room when Rick’s gun holster hit the wooden floor.

“Ya locked the door, right?” Daryl nodded his head towards the door, not taking his eyes off Rick’s when the older man unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. “I couldn’t give a shit if they walked in, but ya might not want them seeing ya begging to come.”

Rick gasped and squeezed at his cock with his hand still over his pants. He belatedly remembered that Daryl had asked him something; but just nodded in response. At least he thinks he locked the door. He was too worked up to even care with the way Daryl watched him palm himself through his jeans. 

“Grimes,” Daryl barked out suddenly, causing Rick to flinch a little in surprise. “Knock it off. Didn’t tell ya to touch yerself, did I? What did I tell ya to do?” Rick felt his cheeks flush at Daryl chastising him and took his hand off of his crotch, opening his pants further before sliding them down his thin hips. “Grimes. I asked ya a question. I expect an answer.” 

Rick’s heart went in to double time, heat pooling in his stomach and his pupils blowing wide. He swallowed hard and licked at his lips, not missing the way Daryl watched his tongue. Rick was thrown off for a fleeting second at how easy Daryl slipped in to this confident, commanding demeanor with the same ease Rick had taken the leader role. Not to mention how turned on he was by letting Daryl take charge of this, of him, and that was something he could analyze later; when he had to analyze why he was letting this happen again.

_Because you want him to fucking touch you again. Best damn orgasm you ever had was last night…_

“Grimes.”

“Told me to take off my pants and underwear.”

“Do it,” Daryl shifted on the bed a little, appearing to get more comfortable for his impromptu strip show. Rick shuddered again, toeing off his boots while grabbing the bottom hem of his shirt, exposing his stomach before Daryl’s voice stopped him. “No. Keep that on. Just yer pants and underwear. We’re gonna have to work on yer listenin’ skills, Grimes.”

Rick bit his lip but nodded, muttering a soft apology, but not really meaning it. He pushed his jeans down his lean legs, letting them pool around his feet before stepping out of them. The outline of his hard cock was obvious in his underwear, precome already leaving a damp spot on the fabric. Rick slipped his long fingers in the waistband and pushed the last piece of clothing down his hips, letting them join the fate of his pants. 

The air of the room suddenly felt ten degrees warmer when it wrapped around Rick’s body. Goosebumps pebbled down his arms and up his thighs. He fought the instinct to cover his crotch, letting his cock stand at attention for Daryl. If he thought he felt exposed last night, this was a whole other beast in and of itself. 

Daryl reached down under the sheets and adjusted himself in his pants, hiding a quiet groan while he looked at Rick on display for him. Rick chanced a glance at Daryl’s hand moving under the bedding, wanting to desperately to rip the sheets off of him. 

“Get on,” Daryl grunted and Rick climbed on to the bed in haste. He sat up on his knees, cock bobbing when he moved and touched Daryl’s covered hip with his knees. His breathing was already running heavy, body flushed. Daryl reached out with the hand closest to Rick and placed it on his hip, pushing a little. “No, get on me. Get on my lap.”

“But you’re hurt-“ Rick started, a concerned frown gracing his lips.

“Grimes, I ain’t gonna fucking break,” Daryl growled. “Get on my fucking lap like I told ya to.” Rick hesitated for a moment before he swung his leg over Daryl’s body, gingerly lowering himself on to Daryl’s lap. He furiously cursed in his mind that there was a sheet and pants keeping him from feeling glorious skin on skin contact with Daryl. Having Daryl’s hard on rub against Rick’s balls only made up for that slightly, Rick’s moan contradicting with his annoyance. “Fuck yeah, there we go, Darlin’.”

Rick blushed slightly at the term of endearment, pushing the thought away and trying to not read too much into the pet name. His eyes went to Daryl’s face and focused on his thin lips. He’s never wanted to kiss someone so badly. The brush of lips they had last night was too violent for him to think it could be counted as a kiss. Now he wanted to feel softness and taste his tongue. Rick started leaning down towards Daryl, his hands reaching up to cup his jaw gently. Rick’s fingers shifted lightly when Daryl tightened his jaw, his body tensing at the implication of what Rick was about to do. Daryl quickly jerked a hand from Rick’s hip to his cock, squeezing at the base with more pressure than necessary, but it accomplished what he needed. Rick took a sharp breath and stumbled a little, his forehead knocking against Daryl’s bandaged one.

“Didn’t give ya any permission to touch, Grimes,” Daryl grunted quietly between their lips. He loosened his fist enough to stroke upwards on Rick’s cock, thumb rubbing under the glands of the head. 

“But I want to-“

“If ya wanna come, yer gonna listen and do what I say,” Daryl watched Rick’s lips pout, going cross eyed because the lack of distance. He rolled his hips upward against Rick’s spread legs, a small smirk appearing on his lips at Rick’s quiet whine. “Hey now, be a good boy and I’ll take care of ya, Darlin’. Promise.” 

Rick shivered at Daryl’s words. He was going to have to have a long sit down with himself and come to terms with some of the things he’s beginning to self-discover all within the past twenty four hours. All it took was the apocalypse and the helpful hand of one redneck named Daryl Dixon. Rick started to roll his hips against Daryl, still holding on to the other man’s jaw and soaking up the intimate contact. Sure, he had done this not too long ago with Lori, but this was different. He couldn’t really place his finger on why it was (beside Daryl being a man and very much **not** his wife), but he didn’t want to think too long on it or the fact that he was cheating on Lori for a second time. 

The sound of the headboard hitting against the wall, even as gentle of a knock as it was, caused Daryl to dig his nails in Rick’s hips, forcing him to stop rocking. Rick made a frustrated noise and leaned away from Daryl to look at him, his annoyance clearly written across his face. Daryl tilted his head back and away, listening for any signs of someone coming down the hall to see what the noise was about. 

“Yer gettin’ too excited,” Daryl looked back up at Rick when everything seemed to be in the all clear. 

“Well hard to fucking not be when you’ve got me naked on you and you ain’t doing a damn thing-“

Rick’s words died on his tongue when Daryl swatted at his ass with a quick flick of his wrist. His blush creeped down his neck and spread just slightly across his chest. Oh, he was going to be having a lot of words with himself and probably another mental crisis to add to his list of clusterfucks he was already dealing with.

“That’s somethin’ to remember,” Daryl’s smirk turned into a shit eating grin, clearly pleased with Rick’s reaction to the spontaneous spank. “Better watch that mouth though, Grimes. Now get up on yer knees.” 

Rick didn’t bother arguing or even questioning Daryl’s command, moving to his knees and keeping Daryl’s hips straddled. However, because of his previous position on Daryl’s lap, Rick’s swollen cock was right in Daryl’s face. Rick swallowed hard and looked down his chest to Daryl, watching precome ooze out the tip of his length and start trailing downward before dripping onto Daryl’s collarbone. 

“Damn Darlin’, you’re already drippin’ for me and I’ve only touched ya once.”

“Shut up-OhmyGod”

Rick’s eyes rolled back when Daryl dragged the flat of his tongue across the head of the dick in front of him, barely even having to lean forward to do so. Daryl hummed in appreciation, Rick wondering if it was because of the taste or he was just happy with the rise he got out of the ex-deputy. Rick placed his hands on Daryl’s shoulders to balance himself, his legs going weak when he looked down to make eye contact with blue grey eyes.

Daryl didn’t even blink when he opened his mouth and took Rick in, moving half way down his length before pulling back. Rick was pretty sure he was going to die soon in this new world, and this would be the last image that would flash before his eyes before he got a bullet to the head. A moan escaped his parted lips when Daryl did it again, his tongue running along the underside of his flesh when he pulled back.

“Darlin’ ya can’t be makin’ any noise. Hear me? Ya wanna come down my throat, Grimes?”

“Oh fuck, Daryl, yes, please.” That was a question he had no problem answering. He felt like he was already on edge and hoped Daryl wasn’t looking to spend too much time sucking cock. 

“Then keep yer fuckin’ mouth shut and be good,” Daryl wrapped a hand around the base of Rick’s cock before swallowing around him again. Rick gasped and placed a hand over his mouth. He knew Daryl was right about the noise level needing to be low. There was no way of explaining their position if Hershel, or God forbid Beth, walked in on them. 

Rick was pretty sure Daryl was laughing at him, but he didn’t care. The vibrations of Daryl’s mouth just drove him that more insane. Rick bucked his hips against Daryl’s face, and was rewarded with an annoyed growl that sent shivers down his spine. Daryl must not have appreciated it too much because his hands were then on Rick’s hips, digging his dirty nails into his skin and leaving marks. 

Rick whimpered a quiet apology, hoping Daryl wouldn’t stop. When he looked back down, Daryl just looking up at him and lowered his mouth agonizingly slow, loosening his jaw and letting Rick slide further in to his throat until his nose was deep in Rick’s curls. His pupils blew wide and he had to put his other hand over his mouth as well to muffle out his moan. 

This fucking backwoods redneck had porn star level blow job skills and they only just begun. 

Daryl closed his eyes and hummed, starting a rhythm of moving his head up and down Rick’s shaft. Rick could only watch as his cock was covered in Daryl’s saliva, noting some dribbling down Daryl’s chin. Rick’s whimpers and moans were whispers in the room, echoing along with the slick sounds Daryl was making with his mouth. Rick could feel his balls draw up and tighten, slightly disappointed that his orgasm was already so close. 

“D-Daryl-“ Rick gasped, “I’m close- God damn I’m close!”

Daryl doubled his efforts, rocking his head faster. Rick’s thighs started shaking slightly and he couldn’t help the small jerking of his hips. Just a little more. He was so close. 

Then Daryl shifted one hand ever so slightly to Rick’s ass, taking a firm grip of one ass cheek and tugging to expose Rick’s hole. 

“Jesus Christ!”

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Daryl used his other hand to press two fingers against Rick’s opening and rub. Rick barely managed to bite back his cry, his hands scrabbling for the headboard for support. His hips bucked harshly against Daryl’s face when his orgasm was ripped from him. Daryl was prepared though, expecting that result, keeping his head still and his mouth open when Rick came down his throat. His eyelids fluttered when his eyes rolled back, moaning at the taste of Rick as it flooded his mouth. 

Daryl let Rick’s cock fall out of his mouth but he kept a firm grip on Rick’s hips to keep him close. He swiped his tongue over the lean cock in front of him, cleaning up every drop of Rick’s come. Rick’s body twitched as he got his breathing under control, pulling his hips back from Daryl’s face when his cock started softening and Daryl’s tongue started to be too much on his sensitive flesh. He tried for an apology, but his voice cracked halfway through. 

“Holy shit, Daryl,” Rick managed to swing his leg over and flop on the bed beside the other man rather than fall back on top of him. His shirt was clinging to his chest and back, but he was pleased to see that Daryl was just as sweaty… and still as painfully hard as he was when Rick first had climbed on to his lap.

Rick bit his lip and glanced up to Daryl’s face. Daryl was watching Rick, licking the corner of his mouth to clean some come that had remained. Rick groaned and shifted, his hand reaching out to Daryl’s lap, his fingertips brushing against the tent of bedding before Daryl grabbed his wrist in a firm grip. Rick furrowed his brows in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he studied Daryl’s calm face. He couldn’t see any anger in his eyes, or God forbid, regret. They stayed like that for a few seconds, neither moving.

“Daryl?”

“Haven’t earned that yet, Grimes,” Daryl’s voice was like gravel and Rick’s cock gave a valiant twitch in interest. “Now get dressed and go on back to camp.”

“But… What about you?” Rick tried to move his hand again but Daryl’s grip was a steel trap. “Daryl, I don’t mind… I want to.”

“Rick,” Daryl’s tone shifted just enough to let Rick know there was no room for argument.  “Get dressed. Go back to camp. Ya been here too long as it is. Someone gonna come lookin’ for ya.” 

Daryl let go of Rick’s wrist and flipped the sheets off of him. His body moved slowly as he shifted off the bed, making his way to the bathroom that connected to the room. Rick still had a look of confusion on his face as he watched Daryl shut the door quietly, the lock clicking in to place. 

_What in the Hell did you do wrong, Grimes?_

Rick’s face heated with shame, quickly moving off the bed to get dressed. He couldn’t help the ache he felt in his chest that easily eclipsed any sort of post orgasm bliss he managed to hang on to during their quick conversation. He shoved his feet in to his boots, only managing to stumble a handful of times, while buckling his holster around his hips. 

His steps were quick through the quiet house, just nodding to Hershel when he breezed past the older man in the kitchen. He avoided all eye contact but he knew Hershel was watching him with a look he didn’t even want to guess at what it meant; even as he walked out the back to make his way to their excuse of a camp. What he would do for a damn guidebook on life and how to not fuck it up. 

He went from a failing marriage to a coma, then apocalypse with an emotional reunion with his family. Just to go back to point A of failing marriage of conflict and tension; straight in to the arms of a Georgia red blooded hillbilly that was just as hot/cold as his wife and five times as confusing when it came to trying to reciprocate. 

_Only you could fuck up this bad in the God damn apocalypse, Grimes…_

* * *

Daryl stared at his come covered hand before knocking his head back against the door of the bathroom he was leaned back against, pants halfway down his thighs.

_Only you could fuck up this bad in the God damn apocalypse, Dixon..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah I got a tumblr (I will try to be more active, oops):
> 
> http://vulgarsequins.tumblr.com
> 
> Come say hi or something. I'm pretty cool, I promise. /narcissism


	3. I promise you it's not a sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lori confesses and Rick does to an extent. A relationship is ended and one begins, but only after hell has broken loose and Rick comes back safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically it's still Sunday here so...
> 
> As much as I don't really care for Lori, I didn't want this to be a Lori bashing chapter. Ya, she cheated but under certain circumstances that she felt justified [I think?] and regretted and this Rick has cheated too. Rick's a good guy but also fragile right now so hope emotions came through. I'm more worried about everyone seeming out of character.
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Finalomen. I messed with this after her last review so any mistakes belong to me. I had a completely different timeline for these events but when I went back to watch the episodes this chapter takes place in, I realized I completely screwed up the time line. I had to basically rearrange/rewrite this thing when I was a little over halfway done. It was a bitch. That writer life, I'm learning is sometimes a struggle. 
> 
> Keep letting me know what you guys think! I can't tell you how much I love hearing your opinions and how much you guys are digging this. Seriously. I have a stupid grin on my face every time I get a little email about it.

“Shane and I…”

_Of course her and Shane… Are ya really surprised? You knew it… Hell, Daryl knew it- Fuck, everyone knew about it. Glenn got her the damn pills! You’re probably last to know about the baby. His baby._

Rick couldn’t believe what his wife was saying; couldn’t believe the two revelations he happened to have about his family this evening. 

_Don’t forget to count the secret one of your own._

The morning had started like any other morning. Everyone woke up at sunrise and started doing their respective duties. Weapon training was something that was suggested and brought up; Andrea anxious to have her gun in her hands again. It made perfect sense. Not everyone in the group had handled weapons before the end of civilization like Rick, Shane, and Daryl had. T-Dog seemed to have a good handle on how to use a gun as well, but it wasn’t an extension of his body like the other three treated firearms. 

The day had seemed like it would consist of arguments and disappointment. Rick could see Lori’s point about her uneasiness with letting Carl handle a gun. She was right in that he just started really walking around today; still a little uneasy on his feet but clearly happy to be mobile and out of bed. Daryl and T-Dog were still resting from their respected injury but both of them no longer in the Greene home.

Carl was also still just a child. Rick wished his son could live a normal life, but this was their life now. They had to be skilled. They had to be strong and ready for whatever may come. He couldn’t let anything happen to his boy and be defenseless like Sophia was. He didn’t mean for Lori to be made out to “be the bad guy” but Carl had to learn how to handle a gun and himself. Rick couldn’t help the sense of pride at how quick Carl had picked up the lessons and how at ease he seemed for as young as he was.

Later that afternoon when Lori was panicking, within good reason, about the eviction Hershel was pushing on Rick’s small group, he knew this day would end in disaster. Thinking back on that conversation, Rick wanted to laugh at Lori’s comment about him hiding things from her.

_That’s our marriage now, isn’t it? Hiding things from each other._

However, they hadn’t really had a marriage months before he was shot. Things were falling apart way before people started eating each other. Part of him wishes they could have had this conversation right there in that moment of emotional whispers and fear. Everyone in camp had to have known about Shane and Lori, what’s some more martial drama to add to the mix? Fuck it, it’s the end of the world. Lori being a hypocrite towards him did not ease up the lead ball in the center of his stomach.

This was all how Rick felt before he found the morning after pills, anyway. When he saw the empty packets, his vision blurred with emotions; rage, grief, fear, hope. He doesn’t remember the march to find Lori in the field. He just remembers tightening his fist around the packets and his breathing loud in his ear. When he found his wife, his emotions just fled from him in the form of words and shouts.

Surprisingly it felt really good to get it all out. It was one of the things Lori would get on to him when their marriage was first failing; that he wouldn’t tell her how he truly felt about things. That the fights were one sided because he would just do what she wanted to keep her appeased. Now all of it was in the open. Lori was pregnant and she had been sleeping with Shane.

Rick gave her a timeline to admit to, because he didn’t want to ask the question of how long before he was shot. The looks the two of them would share when Shane was over for dinner or something pointless made sense now. Shane’s passion about taking care of Lori and Carl while he was essentially dead, now made sense. Daryl’s clipped words about Shane and Lori made all the fucking sense now. 

He was livid. Pissed. Hurt. He felt blindsided by the betrayal of his wife and his best friend, but he knew that he couldn’t throw stones. He wasn’t clean either. Granted, accepting Daryl’s advances and craving them had come after Lori’s own affair, but that didn’t make him absolved. He knew this and had been fighting his emotions and conscience since that first night. Hell, since his first glance of Daryl; the first dream and fantasy. 

“Of course I knew…” Rick nodded and looked away from Lori. “The world went to shit, and you thought I was dead.” Lori bit her lip and nodded, a quick sob was her response. Rick couldn’t tell if she was upset about what she had done, or if she knew this was the breaking point of their fragile marriage. Maybe both. 

“So…” Lori spoke softly, her voice shaking. “What do we do now? What do we do about Carl? Us?”

Rick sighed again, trying to get a grip on his emotions. He couldn’t afford to have a break down right now. 

“We… We don’t say anything to Carl,” Rick chanced a look at her. He truly did feel heartbroken. He did love Lori with all his heart at some time, and had for a while. But they just fell out of it. He didn’t love her in that way anymore and he knew that she was in the same position. Right now, he was just angry at her. At what this all meant and how it came about. 

 Maybe if the world hadn’t gone to shit, he hadn’t been shot, this could have been handled much better. Rick turned to look at Lori, the mother of his child- his children. “Right now, we just keep alive. We protect Carl. We love him and keep him safe. We watch out for each other… and maybe… maybe we can fix us.”

“I’m so sorry, Rick…”

“I know. I am too, Lori…”

_______

_As if things couldn’t get worse._

Shane snapped and all of Rick’s valiant efforts and hard work went to shit the moment his ex best friend shot the walker Hershel was leading to the barn. 

After that, it was a free for all. Total chaos. 

Rick couldn’t believe the amount of walkers Otis had corralled in to the barn. He was even more surprised that it had been done multiple times without any injury falling upon him. How these people were able to sleep with that many of the dead confined in a space not even a mile from their home. 

Rick was absolutely pissed at Shane for pulling the stunt. His alpha male machismo was going to endanger them, or get them all slaughtered. It could be dealt with later, he had thought when he lifted his gun to help mow down the dead Greenes that were making their way to his people. 

It felt like the entire massacre, if it could be called that when the targets were already dead, lasted hours. Rick knew it only lasted ten minutes, tops. When the last walker went down, Rick was ready to strangle Shane. He was trying to keep their group safe, keep them on the farm. He had gone along with Hershel in his insane round up of walkers, even gone as far to let the older man believe that he understood what he was saying and was supportive. Whatever it took to keep everyone in the guise of safety on the land they were currently guests on. 

Then he heard the sounds of a walker they had missed. Time did that funny thing again where it grinds to an abrupt stop. Where the brain instructs the body what to do next, the best course of action for survival, but the body flat out refuses to listen. 

Even when Carol screamed and started running, he couldn’t do anything but stare in horror. He was grateful that Daryl snapped in to action and dragged her to the ground. He obviously couldn’t get his body to do it.

No, the only thing his body knew to do was shoot Sophia in the head.

* * *

 

If Rick was honest, it was a struggle to still share the tent with Lori. However, after the stress of Lori’s confession, the shootout, and even coming back to the farm to see how banged up Lori was as a result of going to find him, it was one of the last things he actually could care about. Yes, Lori had cheated on him for what appeared to be awhile, but it’s not like he wished any harm on her. That just because he was angry and hurt, did not mean he would want her out of his life completely. They had Carl to care for still… A baby as well

_She’s not the only one that fucked around either…_

Rick knew he had to tell her, or at least make it clear that they were in fact over. It wasn’t fair to either of them to play part in a broken marriage. To fake smiles and intimacy when they both thought of other people; or at least when Rick was thinking of someone of a completely different gender than his wife. 

Daryl seemed happy when Rick had arrived safely back with Hershel and Glenn. Then again, Rick did notice how that look of relief and small glimmer of happiness, turned to irritation and disappointment the moment Rick took notice of Lori’s injuries. The fact that Rick even noticed the minute shift in Daryl’s expression caught Rick off guard as it was. Daryl stormed off and wasn’t seen again until they had the meeting about what to do with Randall; although Daryl had made his appearance rather late in the argument and was only there to catch Shane storming out with his sarcastic ass showing. When Shane had gone off the handle once more with his rage, Rick couldn’t spare the time to even really look at Daryl as he tried to placate a shaken Hershel.

Now here Rick sat in the Grimes’ tent with his wife whispering things in his ear about Shane being dangerous. How the other man was delusional about the unborn child that was most likely his, and how Carl and Lori were also his. The last thing he focused on was Lori’s words about how Rick had killed living men to protect what was his. He couldn’t help thinking that he is no longer the man that he used to be; the straight, married, deputy of Kings County.  

He couldn’t listen to anymore of her words. Everything he believed in, trusted in, was flipped on its side since he woke up from his coma. His marriage, his friendship, hell, even his own sexuality. Carl was his only constant in his life now. He didn’t know who Lori, Shane, or who he even was anymore. However, he knew this couldn’t keep going on. He couldn’t let Lori push him in a corner he didn’t want to be in anymore. He couldn’t let himself keep her in a fictitious fantasy that they were going to be okay. This was all still okay. He was okay with everything that she admitted to, what he hadn’t admitted to.

“Lori, you can’t do that if it’s his,” Rick looked back at her. If asked, he would admit that deep down, he did wish he could keep Shane away from the baby. It was selfish of him, but if he could, he would keep Shane from Lori as well; even with their marriage ending. His best friend, his brother, finally got what he had been wanting for a while now. “You know that ain’t right! He- Shane has a right to the baby if it’s his. ‘specially when we are like this!”

“Like what?”

“Broken, Lori,” Rick shifted his arm from her grasp before standing up and away from the cot he was sitting on. He turned to look at her when he started speaking, his heart starting to sped up at the impending conversation. “You and I both have known this was coming. Before I got shot, before all this shit, we were over. We were just going through the motions for Carl. You weren’t happy and neither was I. All we did was fight. You yelled and I would walk away! I thought… Hell, I thought maybe having a second chance living meant us having a second chance, but that ain’t gonna happen. We are too angry at each other, and you and Shane have been at this shit for awhile! I don’t even want to know how long! We aint’ right for each other, not when we went to other people-“

“What?” Lori’s eyes widened. She tried to catch his line of vision again when he looked away. Glass houses and stones. He couldn’t keep his own betrayal a secret, but he didn’t mean for it to slip. Rick bit his tongue before he managed to let any pronoun out that would damn him and his accidental confession.

He also couldn’t tell her the entire truth.

“I’ve strayed too, Lori,” Rick rubbed his face hard. “Just twice. After I woke up, but not before I was shot. Makes me no better or less at fault, but wanted you to know. No chance of… No chance of pregnancy though. Thought of telling you today when you said you couldn’t handle anymore secrets from me… But I got chicken shit-”

“Who was it?” Lori snapped at him before looking back at the camp briefly. She moved off the bed and tried to put a shirt back on, but her injuries stalled her. “Andrea? For Fuck’s sake, not Carol, Rick! Ed just died and now Sophia-“

“You ain’t got any right to ask me that question or even get angry at me, Lori!” That rage flared back up. “I could have just not said a damn thing, called you a whore, and hated you forever! Acted like I was some God damn saint!”

Lori flinched and her eyes filled with more tears before she looked down at her hands. She bit at her lip and wrapped her arms around herself. This was finally happening. The past twenty years or so, shattering. There wasn’t a strip of tape that could try to keep it together. No band aids this time. Watching the realization hit her as she started to crumble made Rick’s heart ache. He took small steps to close the gap between them before wrapping his own arms around her. He ignored her flinch because she was relaxing in his hold before tears started falling. 

“I’m so sorry, Rick,” Lori whispered through her hiccups. He could feel his own tears forming. “I wish I could go back… Wish we could have-“

“I know, but we can’t…” He hesitated before continuing to comfort his wife and betray his own feelings. “We can… take it one day at a time. It will get better. We can still do this for Carl, we have to. For the baby. “

Rick rubbed Lori’s back and helped settle her back on to the cot, sitting next to her as he continued to just hold the woman he had loved with all his heart, still did in a way, but not the way he had when they said their vows to each other. Rick was so lost in the ashes of his marriage that he had no chance of noticing the silent hunter that stormed off away from the tent.

* * *

 

The night that Lori and Rick spilled secrets, half-truths, and expressed their lack of love, or the alteration of that love, they still slept in the same tent; though Carl was between them. Rick had no hope of sleep tonight. His mind was plagued with conversations and memories he was attempting to make sense of; the return of feelings that had punched him in the gut when he was younger, but he had shoved them away. 

He tried to figure out when he and Lori had started slipping, but nothing was coming up. Was it when he started taking extra shifts? Could it have been when they tried to have another baby? Maybe it was when Shane started hanging around more. All three could be the reasons. 

Not that these things mattered now. It was over, or rather, severely broken. Maybe they could work things out. Fighting for survival brings about a lot of change in people.

Like how he was suddenly so very interested in Daryl Dixon.

Rick had always kept that part of him very, **very** well hidden. One, he lived in the deep south where that kind of thing was not tolerated or even looked kindly on. Two, it wasn’t “normal”. His parents always talked about his future. How he would find the right girl, get married, give them grandkids. It was expected of him. He thought maybe the whole thing was just a phase. That kissing the neighbor boy at the tender age of twelve was just an accident; a mistake. 

No one had to know about his crushes on his friends or the kid in his junior biology class. They were just phases. No one had to know about how he would get hard when his (ex) best friend would tell in great detail what he had done to his recent “conquer”; picturing himself as the blonde Shane went down on under the bleachers. That was an accident. No one had to know about the drunken hand job he had given to some guy in Atlanta while Lori and him were on a break; the last break they would have while he was still in the Academy right after high school. That was a mistake.

But now Daryl knew. Daryl Dixon knew he liked to have a hard body against his. Daryl Dixon knew he liked to have his dick touched by rough hands. Daryl Dixon knew he liked to have his cock sucked by another man. He also knew where to touch, when to bite, when to pull his hair, and how to make him squirm. This man had so much control over Rick, control he didn’t know he wanted, needed, to hand over until the first night when Daryl strutted in to a quiet church. Giving him that control made him feel lighter and much more alive; his nerves sparking and crackling with it.

The past two encounters with the redneck ripped something out of Rick that he had brushed off. What he would like to call that ‘something’ made it sound insignificant regardless of his secret wants and lusts. There was more that Rick was eager to do, to Daryl specifically, but the other man didn’t seem interested when the moment came for him to reciprocate. The night he rode Daryl’s face, still stung when he thought about Daryl leaving him in the bed; telling him to go back to camp.  

Rick would have thought that Daryl was disgusted with what they had done every single time they met that way. He would have thought that Daryl was really just helping him out, even if it was in a severely fucked up way. He could have assumed that Daryl didn’t need the interactions like Rick suddenly needed and craved but would not push for. The control was in Daryl’s hands.

Rick would have thought all these things if he was completely blind to see how Daryl’s eyes reflected everything he wanted from Rick in return. Rick just couldn’t figure out what was keeping Daryl from taking more.

Maybe **that’s** what he had to earn.

Rick was quiet when he slipped out of the tent and in to the night, hoping to find the lone wolf member of their group at his own tent.

* * *

 

Daryl was storming out of his tent, crossbow loaded, before Rick was within thirty feet of his secluded camp. The moon hung in the sky and was full, giving the two men enough light to see each other’s features; Daryl sporting one hell of a scowl and Rick’s face painted with confusion. His fight or flight instincts were going off when Daryl didn’t lower his weapon. Rick had barely handled a bullet to his side, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t survive a bolt at the hands of this man. Rick froze in place and raised his hands up in what was hopefully a display of nonaggression. 

_Every time you’ve pointed your gun at him, he’s just challenged you… He points a bow at you and you show your belly._

“Daryl?”

“Heard ya fuckin’ thunder stompin’ second ya got outta yer tent,” Daryl finally lowered his bow, but his lip curled up instead and his finger was still on the trigger. “The fuck ya want, Rick? Don’t make me tell ya to go back to yer fuckin’ tent.” Daryl barely refrained from spitting at the other man. Rick took note at the unusually high amount of cursing Daryl was throwing at him. Proceed with caution when dealing with a pissed off Dixon. Part of him wanted to run back to grab his cuffs and gun to give himself a fighting chance; Rick then remembered only one of those items being a sure fired Dixon kryptonite as Merle had given him a big “fuck you” towards the use of his cuffs.

“I came to see how you were doing,” Rick kept his tone neutral while resuming his walk up to Daryl. He hoped that the night wouldn’t end in him accidentally stoking Daryl’s rage and waking in the morning in one piece. If he could figure out why Daryl was so pissed at him, he could achieve the last result with little struggle. “Ain’t been able to talk to you since I got back, or about what happened with Sophia-“

“Man, why the fuck ya even actin’ like you give a shit!” Daryl roared at Rick, charging to him. Daryl’s chest pressed against Rick’s, his face not quite touching but the slightest breeze could force them together. Rick tried like hell to ignore the spark of arousal that settled in his core at Daryl’s challenging glare and stance. Daryl’s steel blue eyes were filled with white hot rage. The moment felt like severe déjà vu of their first meeting or when they had gotten in Atlanta to find Merle. Daryl charging to Rick in the apartment, but unlike this time, Rick stood firm in his own dominance. No, this time Rick would give Daryl his neck if the other man asked for it.

“Because I do, Daryl-“

“No, ya don’t!” Daryl shoved Rick back with one hand, his crossbow still in the other as he unleashed his frustration. “Ya went on some fuckin’ goose chase after some old man that was too fuckin’ crazy to get what’s happenin’ here! I don’t like Shane, but even that crazy asshole was right ‘bout that! Then ya went and almost got yerself killed because some fuckers showed up- almost got Glenn killed too! No, ya don’t care! Then yer fucking bitch wife come ‘round here **demandin** ’ I go find yer ass? I already got a fuckin’ arrow through me lookin’ for that lil’ girl that **you** lost! Fuck off, Rick! Ya didn’t care about Sophia bein’ in that barn! Ya ain’t my problem! Yer family ain’t my problem-“

Rick’s grip on Daryl’s biceps felt like talons when he shoved the redneck against the stone remains of some building that used to be out in the field. Rick’s rage from earlier flooding his veins at Daryl’s harsh words. He reacted without thinking, a trend as of late, not understanding the consequences of using physical force trying to corner a Dixon. 

“You think I **wanted** to shoot Sophia?” Rick hissed in Daryl’s face. “Wanted Carol to see that? Putting a bullet in her daughter’s head?! Hershel’s family see their own get killed all over again! You think I don’t know that Sophia being dead is all my fault-“

“Rick, get yer hands off me-“

“And after what we did to Hershel and his kin, what Shane did the other day, you expect me to not go help the man just like Lori-“

Rick was not prepared for the sudden power behind Daryl’s lunge. His brain had only a second to chide him about forgetting how dangerous Daryl could be when he felt threatened before he heard the crossbow hit the dirt. Then Daryl’s shoulder was connecting with his gut and the night sky was all Rick could see. The wind was knocked out of him when his back made contact with the ground and taking Daryl’s weight did not help as he gasped for air.

Rick was thankful Daryl had not started wailing on him with his fists, or at least hesitated. The two men struggled and fought for the upper hand in their tussle. Daryl was almost Rick’s height but he had the advantage in muscle mass over Rick. Grunts and heavy pants escaped through gritted teeth along with curses. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ compare me to yer bitch-“

“Don’t call her that! She-“

“-fucked Shane every night and yer dumb ass’s still her bitch-“

“I’m not-“

It was obvious to Rick that Daryl was biting back the pain of his side, his healing tissue screaming at him in agony and stitches threatening to rip open, but he was refusing to let Rick win. Daryl was pissed at him, and he wanted him to feel it. Rick needed to understand how frustrated Daryl was with him, how frustrated Daryl was at their muddy relationship. Daryl was frustrated at Rick for putting Daryl in the position to even give two shits if the ex-deputy got hurt. He was pissed that Rick was still playing husband to Lori, and didn’t trust Rick when he spoke about caring how Daryl was doing with all of this new emotional baggage the redneck clearly wasn’t used to carrying. 

Daryl’s knee slipped between Rick’s legs on one more roll, his thigh shifting high and pressing in to Rick’s groin. The older man let out a sharp gasp as his body went slack, the fight leaving him when Daryl stumbled upon Rick’s shameful display of arousal despite the angry fighting they were in the middle of. Daryl stared down at Rick, both men panting from exertion. 

Rick covered his red face with his shaking hands, embarrassment settling like a lead weight in his stomach. He couldn’t believe his luck. Who was he even more? Daryl was angry at him, they were almost coming to blows, and yet he was turned on fighting against Daryl. 

The hunter could feel Rick shaking under him and that’s when he realized he was just as hard as Rick. He figured it was safe to assume that Rick wasn’t shaking out of fear; or he didn’t want it to be out of fear of him. Yes, he was angry but he didn’t want to bring harm to Rick. Just ruff him up a bit and get some pent up anger out because the dumb ass he had under him had Daryl stressed out and on edge since the barn.

“I’m so fucked up,” Rick’s words were muffled behind his hands. “Who gets hard when fighting-Ah!”

Daryl grabbed Rick’s wrists and yanked his hands away from his face. Before Rick could blink or even flinch, Daryl’s mouth was crashing in to Rick’s. It reminded him of their first night. Daryl was not gentle or sympathetic of Rick’s whimpers, his teeth finding his bottom lip and biting down hard. Daryl had Rick’s wrists pinned beside his head when he dropped his hips down against Rick’s own, shoving his erection into Rick’s and ripping a surprised cry from the older man. Daryl too preoccupied with licking at Rick’s cut lip to give a damn about the noise level.

“Yer not what?” Daryl let go of Rick’s abused lip to breathe the question against his mouth while he rolled his body against Rick’s. 

“What?” Rick’s eyes opened slightly, his vision hazy with lust. He flexed his hands and tested Daryl’s hold on his wrists. A warmth flooded his groin when Daryl tightened his grip and pressed down harder. Rick let out a shaky moan and his brain continued to flounder and grasp the meaning behind Daryl’s question. He cursed the fabric keeping him from truly feeling Daryl because it dawned on Rick how large Daryl’s bulge was when his body was against him like this in their hot contact. Rick was positive their clothing was still hiding Daryl’s actual size and knowing that made Rick shake with want.

“Yer not what? Lori’s bitch?” Daryl growled, halting his hips suddenly. Rick’s brain halted the fantasies rushing through his brain; he did not want Daryl stopping. That was the complete opposite of what he needed in Daryl’s dominate display of power.

“N-No,” Rick swallowed and tried arching his hips up to regain the friction Daryl was now denying him. His cock was throbbing in his jeans and he knew his underwear had to be damp where he was leaking. He would suffer through the chaffing if it meant feeling Daryl’s erection against him again. 

“Then stop lettin’ her mind fuck ya,” Daryl bucked against Rick’s hips, seemingly pleased with Rick’s answer. He groaned into Rick’s neck while he started rolling their hips together at a steady rhythm. Daryl trailed harsh bites along his jaw and down his neck between his sentences; his tongue soothing the pain that sent intense arousal to Rick’s cock. Rick wished he would bite harder, leave a mark. Maybe if he asked, or begged nicely… “Stop actin’ like her bitch if ya ain’t, Grimes. I know ya can see what’s happenin’. Don’t do the dirty work if it gets ya hurt. I’ll be so fuckin’ pissed off at ya. Don’t run off again and get yerself hurt or killed. Don’t do that again to me again. I’ll fuckin’ hunt ya down and kick yer ass. Ya don’t want me doin’ that, right Grimes? Ya want me ta fuck yer pretty ass instead, huh?” 

Rick moaned to Daryl’s very important questions but that’s all he could really manage. He was so close. He could feel himself edging closer to that wonderful release. He didn’t even care if it meant he was going to make a mess of his pants. Rick wondered if Daryl was close as well; the other man’s hips bucking without restraint against his own and he grunting against Rick’s skin. Daryl let go of one of Rick’s wrists to tangle his fingers in his curls at the base of his neck, yanking swiftly to force Rick to arch his neck. The younger man looked down at Rick, soaking up the view of Rick gasping and squirming under him. 

“Yer my bitch, Grimes.” Daryl growled low, thrusting hard against Rick’s body; using him. 

“Y-Yeah,” Rick whined, cheeks flushing when he realized the noise came from his mouth. His free hand now twisting into the back of Daryl’s shirt, attempting to force Daryl further in to his body if it was possible.

“Fuckin’ say it.”

“Daryl,” Rick looked up at the other man, heart racing. His flush started spreading down his neck at the rush of embarrassment. He could hear his heart beat rushing in his ears.

“Fuckin’ say it, Grimes,” Daryl’s aggressive glare softened slightly, his grip on Rick’s hair relaxing a fraction and his voice losing it’s edge briefly. “But not if ya don’t mean it…”

Rick could feel himself panic. Daryl was pulling away, shutting himself off, wondering if he had pushed too far; forcing Rick in to something he didn’t want, a territory he wasn’t comfortable being in. Daryl backing down like in the church and second guessing his actions if only because Rick may not give him the reaction he desired.

“I’m your bitch,” Rick slid his hand in to Daryl’s dirty hair and gave it an experimental tug. Daryl’s pupils dilated and a growl left his throat; his hips jerking against Rick’s again harshly that made Rick moan and whine. “I’m your bitch, Daryl-“

Daryl’s teeth found Rick’s lips again. His tongue forced its way inside Rick’s mouth and all Rick could do was submit and let him take. He let Daryl’s tongue fuck his mouth, his teeth assault his flesh while the other man’s hips forced his own down in to the Earth. Rick loved the way Daryl tasted. He wanted to keep tasting him, and if this is the only way he got to experience it, then he would gladly forget how soft kisses felt. Daryl broke away from Rick’s mouth suddenly. He let out a grunt before growling Rick’s name, his body tensing and his eyes fluttering closed when he came in his pants. Rick scorched the noise and sight in to his brain.

Daryl was perfect when he came; Face slack and muscles tense, his thin lips open slightly. His strength wavering for a moment as he gave in to pleasure. Rick wanted him like this every chance he could afford in this world.

Daryl was panting against Rick’s cheek while he came down from his bliss; his body heavy on Rick’s but unmoving none the less. Rick knew he was pouting, however a manly pout, and raised his hips up against Daryl’s body to chase after his own release. He was right there, just a little further.

Then Daryl was off of him. 

Rick watched with wide eyes as Daryl rose to his feet and dusted off his pants. His eyes zeroed in on the large wet spot on the front of Daryl’s pants and licked his lips. Rick’s hand went down to his own zipper and button, only managing to flick the button lose before Daryl was bending down to smack his hands away. 

_Finally. Yes. Please fucking touch me-_

Rick couldn’t help the surprised gasp that escaped his mouth when Daryl had yanked him upward by his shirt, his bow legs taking a moment to find steady ground. Rick pressed his hips against Daryl’s when he was no longer in fear of falling on his ass and was frustrated when the other man stepped away.

“Ya ain’t coming tonight,” Daryl buttoned Rick’s pant’s back up. 

“Excuse me?” Rick bit out, his brows furrowed. 

“Didn’t fuckin’ stutter, Grimes,” Daryl’s eyes bore in to Rick’s, his tone firm. “Don’t touch yerself. Ya ain’t allowed to come until I tell ya to either. Punishin’ ya for fuckin’ running off and almost gettin’ yerself killed.”

“But I didn’t get killed!” Rick snapped. His cock was throbbing painfully in his pants. Rick did not like the turn their little game took. “You ain’t serious, Daryl!”

“I am,” Daryl reached out and cupped Rick’s jaw with a gentle touch that contradicted how he handled Rick just minutes before. His thumbs brushed against Rick’s cheekbones softly but his brows were furrowed. The caress reminded him of how Lori would touch him, reminded him of how lovers handled each other, and that made him pause in his frustratingly aroused tantrum. “Ya ran off and weren’t back before night. Had me fuckin’ worried. Already was pissed about what happened with Sophia… Then ya went and pulled that shit. Had me snappin’ at Carol I was so angry at ya.”

Rick could only stare at Daryl when he spoke the confession. He never expected to hear anything like this from the redneck that kept himself guarded, kept his emotions secret. He felt his frustration simmer. He could even ignore the uncomfortable throbbing in his pants for now because this was a change between them. Daryl was giving him something he didn’t think he would ever get because he didn’t know what they were. Their relationship as survivors that relied on each other just shifted to something different. What that was, Rick was still unclear.

“Don’t do that again without me goin’ with ya,” Daryl whispered, shifting closer to Rick. “Don’t need ya gettin’ killed. Ain’t gonna let anyone put a bullet in yer head… And don’t let Lori control ya, got it? Yer mine, Rick Grimes.”

“Daryl…” Rick’s chest tightened at the implication of Daryl’s words. He felt another rush of arousal thinking of how Daryl just laid claim to him. 

“If… That’s what ya want,” Daryl’s eyes shifted down from Rick’s own to settle on Rick’s plush lips, second guessing himself again about opening himself up to this man. They both were on shaky ground on where they stood with each other; what the other wanted out of this. “Or ya could tell me to fuck off, yell how I’m goin’ to Hell for liking yer cock-“

“I want it,” Rick’s words were rushed to cut Daryl off from further sabotaging whatever internal panic the other man was having. “I… Yeah.” 

“Knew ya did,” his signature smirk graced his lips for a brief moment. “Promise ya, it ain’t a sin what I’m gonna be doin’ to ya… Gonna have ya beggin’ for it every night.”

Daryl closed the space between their lips with a gentle kiss that was meant to be shared with lovers in quiet intimacy. 

* * *

 

Rick stared at the top of the tent for half an hour after he slipped back in to his own cot. It was a painful limp back to the tent he shared with his family, but he did manage to will his cock down, if only slightly to make the getting under the blankets not as arduous. Lori and Carl were still, thankfully, in a deep sleep. He wouldn’t be able to explain the smile splitting his face. His mind played Daryl’s words on loop while brushing his fingertips along his lips. Rick’s battered skin still tingled at the one kiss Daryl allowed him before sending him off to his side of the camp. 

Rick decided his punishment, his denied orgasm, was well worth their first kiss under Georgia stars in a world that was trying to kill them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo my tumblr:
> 
> http://vulgarsequins.tumblr.com
> 
> Lets be friends and talk about these zombie fighting husbands before season 6b fuckin' breaks us.


	4. You look so thirsty, I think you need it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick can't catch a break in any aspect of his life that's crumbling around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just feel bad for poor Rick. He's just trying to be a good man and get laid.
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Finalomen, for her amazing words of encouragement that get me through writing. Thanks to all of you that are enjoying this! I adore you and love your words you've taken the time out of your browsing to give me. They keep me writing.
> 
> Oh, heads up: take note of the ever changing tags for this story! I have everything loosely planned out, but things get added in there that I didn't know I would even use. I just want to make sure possible triggers are addressed so everyone can enjoy safely!

Rick is not the same man he was six months ago. He is not the same man he was a single month ago, or even a week ago. He could even have changed in the past day, or within the last hour. Would his past self even recognize who he was if he stood in front of him or would he be able to have a conversation with the old Rick Grimes?

These were just a few of the thoughts he had as he led Shane, Daryl, and Randall up to the barn for this outsider’s execution. Among these thoughts that constantly looped in his head on repeat the past few days the most important was this:

Shane tried to kill him.

Rick had not told anyone about what happened when his ex-best friend and he had taken Randall out to drop off. He didn’t utter a word about the conversation he had with Shane at the crossroads. He didn’t speak of the nonverbal threat towards Shane on how he needed to back the fuck off from his family; from Lori, Carl, and **his** unborn child.

If he was completely honest, he couldn’t grasp why he was telling Shane to stay away from Lori. Rick knew why Shane needed to stay away from his son. That was his son, not Shane’s. He had already expressed how thankful he was towards his partner for taking care of his family while he was gone, but he was here now and that was his job. He could raise his son. Shane started to cross a line.

Lori on the other hand… She was a wild card, a riddle, an enigma. He had told Lori that they weren’t a happily married couple. They were estranged in their relationship; cheaters of their vows. Why should he give a damn if Shane wanted her? She cared about Shane, maybe even loved him or at least did at a time. Now she wanted Rick to kill him, she was scared of Shane. He tried to reason that **that** is the reason he wanted Shane away from her. Shane was unstable, yes, but he couldn’t just take Shane out to the field and shoot him. Rick would refuse to do such a heinous crime against his brother. A few days ago he would have told her she was sick for suggesting such a thing. 

This Rick… This Rick now considers it. 

_Who am I even now…?_

Rick was mentally exhausted. He had finally settled his mid-life crisis, or maybe it was his end of life crisis with the way things were going, of being attracted to a man, accepting it, and then letting said man kiss him, jerk him off, suck him off, and then control when he comes.

Rick glanced back at Daryl to meet his deep blue eyes as he dragged Randall along. He had to look ahead at the barn again because if he kept staring at Daryl, there was no doubt in his mind that he would have a very inappropriate hard on. He shivered slightly at how aggressive and primal Daryl had taken to dealing with their outsider. The absolute cold rage that clouded Daryl’s eyes when he learned what Randall’s group had done to the survivors they had found. Rick knows if it was just Daryl and himself, he wouldn’t have stopped the man from cutting Randall to pieces. 

He couldn’t tell Daryl about the fight he had with Shane. How Shane threw a bike on top of Rick’s legs and how **that’s** the reason Rick walked with a limp. He gave as good as he got, breaking Shane’s nose when he had gained the upper hand; growling like the alpha male he was while adrenaline rushed through his veins like a steroid. Then Shane threw the wrench towards his head and all Hell broke lose within minutes with walkers. Rick knew he definitely couldn’t tell Daryl that had happened.

They were new to this change in their relationship, and Rick still didn’t know if it was safe to use the word “lovers” to describe them. Daryl had showed Rick the other night that he cared enough that he didn’t want Rick running in to dangerous situations without him by his side; something he obviously ignored when taking Shane out with Randall. Rick couldn’t help wondering what kind of punishment Daryl would inflict on him if he **did know** what happened yesterday. Then he remembered that Rick would be the last thing on Daryl’s mind as he sought out Shane to put a bolt through his head.

That was something Rick had to ignore and tuck away for later. It was a conversation that had such a small chance of even being discussed with Daryl in the future, but he wouldn’t lie to the other man if asked what really happened. Once again, Rick didn’t know if it was even something to talk to Daryl about. 

If they were lovers, then yes he would. They weren’t “boyfriends”, that almost sounded too immature or childish for their situation. They were still secret. They didn’t act any different around the others. They would only catch eyes; having a full conversation with looks alone. Rick couldn’t place the exact time when they started to do that. There were no embraces in the shadows, no hand holding hidden under tables, no chaste kisses. No conversations about what they were or what label they should use.

_Well then maybe I’m still truly fucked on what the hell is even going on…_

As it stood, it was something to deal with later, along with everything else that was draining the life out of him. Now though, now Rick had to deal out an execution. He ignored the bile in his mouth at the thought of being a once good cop that was going to be using his gun to end yet another life in a world that no longer had law. The only law this world had now: survival of the fittest.

Rick opened the barn door, not waiting for the other three before entering. This barn had nothing but death surrounding it. The smell of decay was finally starting to fade, but that may have been in part to it smelling like cow shit now.

Shane was walking ahead of Daryl, stopping to Rick’s left while both men turned to watch Daryl shove Randal in front of Rick. The two men shared a brief look while Shane went to blindfold Randall, hushing the young man as if that would calm him down. This kid knew he was going to die tonight. Soon enough, his fight or flight instincts would kick in; some had a way of choosing the worst time to try and survive. This was not one of those times, not when the three men that were surrounding oneself were filled with jealous testosterone, disgust towards one’s very existence and the stress of leading a family.

“Would you like to stand or kneel?” Rick’s voice came out in a gruff and the panicked realization of what was coming finally dawned on Randall.

Daryl kicked at Randall’s knee, the kid dropping like a sack of bricks while his breathing picked up, his pleas tumbling out of bloody lips. Rick watched when the redneck grabbed a fistful of Randall’s dirty hair and yanked, forcing the young man to tilt his head up to him. Rick’s stomach dropped at the imagery in front of him, his mind replacing Randall with himself and turning the situation in to something much more erotic and filthy. His bright eyes met with Daryl’s and the other man could read everything within them. Daryl let go of Randall’s hair and stepped away, not taking his eyes off of Rick’s own. 

Rick had to tear his gaze from Daryl, but only after mentally screaming at himself for getting it together; he was about to end this kid’s life but was on the verge of getting hard. All because Daryl was here and so close to him. Thank whatever God that Shane was to his left.

_Who in the fuck am I…?_

“Do you have any final words?” Rick looked down at Randall, despite the boy not being able to see him. No words had been spoken between Rick, Shane, or Daryl until now. The only sounds echoing in the barn were Randall’s pleas and his begging to be let go or spared. 

“No! Please!” Randall was sobbing at this point, snot dripping out of his nose. Sweat covered his body and mixed with the blood Daryl had shed earlier in the day during his violent interrogation. Rick briefly wondered if the man that Randall’s group had beaten, begged like this. If he pleaded with those that tortured him and his girls to spare them. Rick was filled with rage at the thought of someone doing that to the women of his group. He could at least sleep soundly knowing he wasn’t that fucked up and by doing this, he was protecting his people.

Rick raised his python up to Randall’s forehead and cocked the hammer back. The noise sounded like a bomb dropping in the old barn; it could be heard over Randall’s panicked cries. Much later, Rick would wonder why he hesitated. Much, much later, Rick would question why he took the few seconds to drag out this particular execution when he had absolutely no pause in ripping a man’s throat out, nothing stopping him from gutting a man open, or lose not an ounce of fucking sleep over bringing a machete down on a cannibal’s skull.

Unfortunately though, Rick did hesitate and it only took those few seconds for Carl to encourage him to pull the trigger. It took those few seconds and his son’s voice to smash Rick’s confidence that he could do this; that he could kill this boy in the name of protection. 

Rick’s hand shook but stayed aimed at Randall when he looked over to see Carl standing by the door, watching his father without any emotion on his face. No, Carl was not looking on in horror or fear, in disgust, in disbelief at what his father was about to do. Carl wasn’t covering his eyes or even running away from the scene. His feet were firmly planted with every intention to watch Rick shoot this kid in the head, right between the eyes all while still wearing his damn hat. 

And that broke Rick.

“Are you kidding me? What did I say to you?” Shane was the first to react, storming up to Carl. Any other situation, Rick would be pissed that Shane was talking to his son that way. They had this conversation the other day, almost killed each other over it even. Shane was not Carl’s father, Rick was. However, in this moment, Rick couldn’t be more thankful that Shane was going to his son. Rick was frozen in his spot. Daryl had just turned to see Carl, but his eyes went right to Rick when the boy spoke. Daryl had to be in another world if Carl even got the jump on the hunter. Shane had grabbed Carl’s arm and was dragging him out of the barn, leaving Daryl, Rick and Randall alone. “What did I say to you?”

“Take him away,” the spell over Rick broke and he lowered his gun, shoving it in his holster after flipping the safety on. His voice cracked and his hands shook. He was on the verge of losing it; he wanted to just scream at the sky. He wanted to scream at fate or God or whoever was responsible for bringing his son in on that moment. Rick finally turned away from Daryl and Randall, knowing he had to or he may take his anger out one one of the two in blind rage and frustration. “Take him away!”

Daryl narrowed his eyes at the back of Rick’s head, watching the older man step away and pull at his own hair in frustration. Daryl’s expression was a mixture of confusion, disappointment, and annoyance towards Rick and his sudden weakness. His brows furrowed and he waited in silence before looking down at their captor, grabbing his arm and painfully yanking him upwards. He was tired of hearing his blubbering anyway. “Get up.”

When Daryl passed Shane and Carl, it took everything in him not to snarl at the two of them. Shane for being Shane and still being the one Rick sought guidance from, regardless of what had happened between them the other day. Rick must have really thought Daryl was an idiot if he expected him to buy that story like everyone had about Otis. Daryl wanted to just shake Carl and scream at him for being a spoiled rebellious shit at the worst time and giving his father more grief to fuck with his brain. Dragging Randall to the other side of the barn took longer than expected, and if the kid gained a few more cuts and scrapes on the way there, well no one had to know how he got them.

Rick emerged from the barn to catch Daryl turning the corner and disappearing with Randall in the dark shadows. Looking back at Shane and his son, he nodded to the other man before grabbing Carl’s shoulder to take him back to camp. Rick took deep breaths during the walk, trying to not bruise Carl’s skin with the firm grip he had on him. He couldn’t blame this on his son. This was another cross for Rick to bare. He was a fool to think something this massive, this crucial of a decision, could be solved within a day. He should have listened to everything Dale tried to reason with him; instead he backed himself in to a dark corner of his mind he found himself retreating to more often than not.

“We’re keeping him in custody for now,” Rick watched the different reactions from their camp members. He was surprised Maggie had stayed outside with them, though she was now getting up to leave with Glenn following her. Andrea mentioned going to find Dale and tell him what he would without a doubt think was good news, but Rick couldn’t care. He didn’t kill Randall for Dale. It was for Carl, whom he was pushing towards Lori when she had walked up to him. 

Lori told Carl to go in to the tent and to stay there, but who knows if his son would actually listen. Carl didn’t listen when he was told to stay at camp, and now they were in this new set of predicaments. World goes to shit and so does the parenting and discipline. 

“He followed us,” Rick’s winter blue eyes met with Lori’s warm mocha ones. “He wanted to watch.” 

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Lori wrapped her arms around Rick’s body, her hands finding purchase in his soft curls. Rick returned the embrace; it was second nature after doing it for almost twenty years. There was nothing else to say. His son was going to watch him kill a young man. When did it come to this? When had he become a killer?

_Who the fuck have I become?_

Rick pulled away from Lori after the gesture of comfort started to feel wrong against his body. Lori’s face dropped for a moment before she looked down at her own hands. Her long fingers spun her wedding band around her digit. Both of their rings had gotten a little big after coming close to starving in the woods, but thanks to Hershel and their family’s generosity, they fit correctly again. Rick wondered if they would ever take them off. He wondered if it had bothered-

“I have to go back to Daryl. I need to talk to him.”

* * *

Rick turned the corner of the barn quickly, his limp a little more prominent in his pace as he rounded the corner. He could hear Randall’s grunts and what Rick presumed were Daryl’s fists making contact with body parts. There was a soft glow from Daryl’s lantern peaking through wooden planks, leading Rick to were the man was. 

“Daryl,” Rick knew Daryl could hear him coming to their hideout, but that didn’t stop him from announcing his presence to Randall. Daryl landed one more blow to Randall’s stomach before acknowledging Rick had entered the room; however he refused to make eye contact.

“The fuck ya doin’ here, Rick?” Daryl stood, still looming over the battered captor he had taken charge over. He spit down on Randall before wiping the sweat off his brow. 

“Don’t kill ‘em,” Rick glanced behind himself briefly to see if there was a door to the entranceway to provide some sort of privacy, but was disappointed to see that there was nothing of the sort. That didn’t seem to deter Daryl from continuing his punishment, and Rick knew it wouldn’t stop the heated man from being aggressive with Rick. Daryl had been on edge since he had first gotten a hold of Randall in the early hours of the day. 

“Why?” Daryl spun and glared at Rick. Even in the lack of lighting, Rick could see Daryl’s eyes burning bright with rage. Daryl stomped towards Rick, closing the distance between them, his hands flying in different aborted directions as he hissed. “Why the fuck not? ‘Cuz ya can’t? ‘Cuz Carl made ya fuckin’ puss out-“

“Daryl,” Rick gave a low warning, his voice dropping deep but still keeping his stance neutral. Daryl paused, eyes flitting between Rick’s eyes while tightening his jaw. The air between them was heavy, the challenge in his tone stoking Daryl’s rage and dominance. “Don’t do-“

Randall decided at that moment to interrupt Rick with another plea to be released and it broke the tension between Rick and Daryl; it was starting to cross in to sexual lust if Daryl’s pupil’s dilating and his study of Rick’s neck were anything to go by. Daryl jerked away from Rick, turning to Randall to deliver a kick to his ribs. Rick winced when he heard a sickening crack. 

“Will ya shut the fuck up!” Daryl crouched low and grabbed Randall’s clothing to force him to stand. “Ya ain’t leavin’ ya rapist piece o’ shit. Ya lucky his ass came when he did or I’d be guttin’ ya like a fuckin’ pig ’n laughin’ the whole time!” Rick watched as Daryl jerked Randall’s arms up and latched his restraints on a meat hook hanging from the ceiling. He also couldn’t help that Daryl’s accent dipped further into Southern backwoods Georgia territory when his rage over took him. “Jus’ be thankful ‘m not my daddy, o’ ya wish ya was dead now, pussy mother fucker.”

Rick glanced away at the final comment Daryl graced the strung up man with. He didn’t know if he was meant to hear that and was uncomfortable with the knowledge that Daryl spoke with conviction and truth; no doubt Daryl had experienced much worse at the hands of the senior Dixon at a much younger age than Randall was. Randall continued to beg and plead with Daryl to let him go, that he was sorry, or that he didn’t do anything to those girls. 

How Rick could have almost forgotten Daryl’s warning earlier that day, he won’t ever understand. However, when he thought about it much later in the year, decade, he would remember this moment and how it shook him to his core thinking about it. How there were survivors out there that continued to be sick creatures of humanity that didn’t let something like the end of the world stop them from being vile scum. Survivors that would try to do acts that Randall’s group had done to those girls, and worse, to his family; Lori, Andrea, Carol, Beth, Maggie, hell, even his son. At that moment, Rick knew that those monsters would always try, but never would they succeed. Rick would have to be dead for them to accomplish their task, or wish that he was when he doled out his punishment. He also knew that he would forever trust Daryl’s judgement from that moment on.

“Man, tired o’ hearin’ yer whiney ass,” Daryl’s words brought Rick’s sights back to what he was doing. The redneck was stuffing his red rag in Randall’s mouth, muffling the young man’s sobs before tugging his blindfold over his mouth as well to keep the makeshift gag in place. The action brought that now familiar warmth of lust through his veins and to his groin again, making mental notes to bring the conversation up to Daryl later about trying that out on him but with less clothing. “Now, gonna tell me why ya bitched out on me?”

“Daryl, I ain’t gonna let-,” Rick started but Daryl raised his hand to cut him off while he strode up to him. Rick’s lips sealed shut at the nonverbal command, his body and mind knowing who it answered to in this moment. A shudder ran down his spine when Daryl passed him, the corner of his thin lips tilting just slightly to show he was pleased with the immediate obedience in Rick. 

“Explain that shit over here,” Daryl stopped at a crate, turning, and hopping back to sit on it. Rick watched with furrowed brows and glanced back at Randall, the younger man watching the two of them. Daryl leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Sweat was shinning on his impressively toned biceps and shoulder caps, the intense shadows thrown by the small lantern emphasizing the dips and curves. 

Rick’s eyes continued roaming over Daryl’s reclined body, unconsciously licking his lips and feeling heat pool in his belly. He looked delicious and Rick wanted to kneel in front of him. This thought was solidified when Rick’s gaze stopped at Daryl’s crotch, the shadow of his growing erection becoming more visible. 

“Cat got yer tongue, Grimes?” There it was. There was Daryl using that tone and that version of his name. Rick swallowed hard and walked to Daryl, stormy blue eyes watching his every move with growing lust. “Get to talkin’. We ain’t got all night.” 

“I-I ain’t gonna let my son watch me kill a man,” Rick’s voice was low in the quiet barn, even Randall had grown silent in his anticipation of how this conversation would go and what it would mean for his own life. Rick wanted this part of the conversation to end; he didn’t want to talk about Carl when his thoughts were warring with what he wanted to do to Daryl in the dirty excuse for shelter. Thoughts of his young son and his aggressive lover needed to stay separated. “He doesn’t need to see what I gotta do to protect him and his mother, our growing family.”

“Way to fuckin’ bring her in to this,” Daryl’s lip curled at Rick’s words, his body strung tight like his bow and his nails digging in his arms. He shifted forward, looking ready to bolt or attack Rick. As it stood, this would not end well for Randall. 

“Hey,” Rick closed the distance and blocked Daryl’s escape from the crate, standing between his opened thighs. He took a risk and stretched his hand out, placing it on the middle of Daryl’s chest to keep him in place. It was the second challenge to Daryl that night and Rick knew he was playing with a time bomb named Dixon. Rick’s next words were soft and quiet. “By family, I mean all our people… Not just my blood. Everybody. You too. Gonna protect ya’ll”

Daryl’s body was still tensed and ready to flee under Rick’s hand, but Rick refused to waver. He refused to break eye contact, hoping there was enough lighting for Daryl to see that he only spoke the truth and meant everything he said. Rick could only see half of Daryl’s own face, most of it obscured by shadows, but he could see that one of his steel blue eyes was piercing him deep. He knew Daryl was reading for any lies or half assed promises in the ex-deputy’s voice. 

Rick must have passed another one of Daryl’s tests because the other man relaxed and leaned back against the wall. This time Daryl was the first to break eye contact. The redneck reminded Rick of a pouting child in time out. 

“I know what ya mean, and I know what yer sayin’ ‘bout Carl,” Daryl mumbled. Rick couldn’t tell if it was a play of shadows or if Daryl was actually fidgeting with what else he wanted to say. The sound of crickets seemed to encourage Daryl to finally speak. “Yer a good daddy. Ya want to keep ‘em safe and away from this shit. Too young for it now, but ya know it’s comin’. Kid gonna see shit we don’t want ‘em seein’. But I know why ya stopped. Ya did good. Yer a good man, Grimes.”

Rick flushed at the praise that Daryl fucking Dixon was giving him. The same man that threw a line of squirrels at him and cursed his name the first day they met. 

“I don’t know about that, Daryl,” Rick rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “I’m not the same man I was before all this-“

“I sure as shit ain’t complainin’,” Daryl smirked and pushed his thigh against Rick’s own. “Pretty sure ya wouldn’t be talkin’ to me without pushing my face on the ground and yellin’ my rights at me. Cuffin’ me and shit.”

“Wouldn’t do that to ya,” Rick wished he could stop the flush from traveling down his neck. He would just hope the darkness hid most of it from the man sitting in front of him. What Daryl said was most likely true; Rick wouldn’t have met him. He also wouldn’t have the pleasure of fantasizing Daryl bending him over his squad car, fucking him roughly on the hood while his hands were bound by his own cuffs. He could feel his dick twitch in his pants as the mental thoughts played out in his head.

The plus side was that Daryl was no longer looking at Rick’s face to see his blush. The other plus, because was it really a negative, was Daryl’s eyes honed in on Rick’s growing erection.

“Why’s that, officer Grimes?” Daryl was fucking with him now. He knew damn well what Rick had meant. He wanted him to say it. Rick swallowed and shook his head, still avoiding Daryl’s face. “Hey! I asked ya a fuckin’ question, Grimes. Look at me and answer. Ya don’t want a repeat of the other night…”

“Because I want ya using my cuffs on me,” Rick responded before Daryl finished his threat. His eyes traveled from Daryl’s face down to his hard on. The younger man blinked in surprise at the confession before tilting his head with a smirk.

“That so?” Rick nodded. He so desperately wanted to adjust himself in his pants, but he also didn’t want Daryl getting on to him. He wanted to come tonight. He needed to come. Daryl sat up and away from the wall, his face coming to Rick’s chest and his hands resting on his narrow hips. “Get on yer knees, Officer Grimes.”

Rick did as he was told, looking up to Daryl’s face. His stomach was doing flips in anticipation. His mouth had gone dry and sweat was gathering on his brow. Finally. He was **finally** going to get to touch and taste Daryl after all the secret rendezvous and too many wet dreams about this to count. Daryl’s calloused hands went to the fly of his cargo pants, quickly opening the button and pulling his fly down. Rick’s bright blue eyes widened and dilated when Daryl tugged his half hard cock out. His mouth was suddenly watering, but a noise behind him caused him to jump to his feet.

“Shit! Daryl, you can’t,” Rick looked back at a very shocked, squirming Randall. Muffled shouts filled the room and Rick started to pull away but Daryl’s sudden grip on his wrist prevented him from moving far. It wasn’t lost on Daryl that Rick had shifted his body to block Randall’s view of Daryl’s exposed dick. Rick’s eyes were still wide with panic when he looked down at Daryl, brows furrowed. “Daryl, Randall is right there! You can’t do- We can’t-“

“Get back on yer knees, Grimes,” Daryl gave a sharp tug to Rick’s wrist, Rick going back down on his knees without much fight. Daryl’s other hand touched Rick’s face gently, contrasting with his still firm grip on Rick’s wrist, and coaxed the older man to look back at him. Rick couldn’t help looking straight at Daryl’s cock that was half a foot, at most, from his face. “Don’t worry about that stupid bastard. Sick fuck likes to watch anyway. Ain’t that right ya piece of shit?”

Daryl was practically growling when he shot a glare at his hanging captor. Randall grew quiet when Daryl’s attention was on him, no doubt wondering if Daryl was as sick a man as his own group was. He resigned to staying quiet, but did not tear his eyes away from the other two men that had just revealed a part of their relationship that Randall would not have guessed in all his life.

“See?” Daryl smirked back down at Rick, his thumb stroking Rick’s cheek bone and down his stubble. “He ain’t gonna give us any trouble. Now, tell me ‘bout how ya want me to cuff ya. What put that idea in yer head?” 

Daryl’s hand never left Rick’s head. It traveled to his curls and drew trenches through it, but would always return to his cheek to cup him softly. Daryl’s thumb tugged on Rick’s bottom lip when the other man hesitated. Rick’s heart was racing. He knew what this must look like; Daryl sitting with his hardening cock in Rick’s face while he was knelt on the ground before him. Knowing Randall was there watching sent a perverted thrill through his body that he didn’t know his mind would gladly accept and embrace as a kink. 

“Just when you mentioned it now,” Rick looked up at Daryl, his eyes still just as piercing as when he was pissed off at him earlier. Daryl’s free hand wrapped around his length, jerking the flesh lazily while it continued to stiffen. Rick let out a soft whine, embarrassment flooding his cheeks and his skin hot to Daryl’s touch. Daryl was huge, not that Rick was dick envious, but the other man was not a size that Rick found uncomfortable to look at. Quite the opposite; Rick couldn’t look away. This moment solidified his realization that he was not as straight as he had lied to himself all these years. 

No. No, right here, right now in his quiet barn, Rick would do anything to touch Daryl’s fat cock. Rick would beg and plead to get his lips around the swollen, leaking head of Daryl’s length. He just wanted Daryl to use him, and he wanted Randall to watch as the man in front of him took him apart. Someone to witness the power Daryl had over him; to see that it was real and he wasn’t imagining it with hopeful fantasies. 

“That ain’t all,” Daryl’s voice was low and his hand still moving lazily up and down. His hand squeezed a few drops of precome out to help slick the way before moving faster. “Talk to me, Grimes. Earn my cock…”

“Thought about other things,” Rick admitted, eyes hypnotized by Daryl’s hand picking up its pace. Daryl’s thumb kept playing with his bottom lip and he nodded for Rick to continue, a deep grunt coming from his throat. “When you made Randall kneel, grabbed his hair. Thought about you doin’ that to me. Then seein’ ya hang ‘em up like that… Wanted that to be me-“

“Shit, yer a sick fuck, Grimes,” Daryl moaned, no judgement in his gruff voice. His hand was working quickly on his cock, the head flushed red and angry but glistened in the low light. A steady stream of precome was leaking from the tip, mixing with the drying blood on his knuckles. “Want me to cuff ya up? Blindfold yer naked ass too?”

Rick whimpered and nodded, his hands digging in to Daryl’s knees but knowing better than to try and touch anything higher. He didn’t want to ruin any chances he had in touching Daryl. Rick fought against the need to touch himself as well; resigning to rolling his hips in his kneeling position to try to get some relief against his jeans. He was so hard and leaking as much as Daryl.

“Fucking Christ, Grimes,” Daryl hissed, his breathing coming out ragged. He was close. His muscles were tensing and bunching, sweat covering his arms, neck, and face. “You’ll let me do anything to ya, won’t ya? So fuckin’ needy for it.”

Rick turned his head just slightly, his soft tongue licking Daryl’s thumb that was still on his face. Daryl bit his lip and shoved his thumb in to Rick’s mouth, Rick not hesitating to suck on the calloused digit. He was too far gone and turned on to be bothered by the taste of Daryl’s dirty skin. Daryl watched with dark eyes, the blue of his irises just thin rims around his pupils. Rick didn’t break contact as he moved his head further down Daryl’s thumb, wanting to take everything in; convince Daryl to let him put his mouth to better use.

Daryl’s hips bucked up in his fist as he choked out Rick’s name. Rick watched as his heavy cock twitched in his hand, come coating the hunter’s knuckles and dripping down his swollen length. Daryl’s hand was soaked by the time his dick stopped throbbing in his hold; his pants and underwear catching what his hand couldn’t. Rick’s own cock was painful in his pants. Daryl would just have to barely touch-

“Grimes, that mouth of yours,” Daryl removed his thumb from Rick’s mouth, moving his hand to brush back his sweaty curls from Rick’s forehead. 

“Please, Daryl,” Rick whispered, his fingertips digging in to Daryl’s thighs and leaning closer to the younger man’s spent cock. Daryl’s smile was lazy from his impromptu jerk off show, but his eyes were affectionate. He brought his come covered hand to Rick’s mouth.

“Go on. Lick it up…” Daryl painted Rick’s bottom lip, making it look like the man had gloss over it. “Next time, I’ll have you drink it up straight from my cock. Shoot straight down that throat of yers.” Rick tentatively licked his lips to taste Daryl’s come. In his old life, he would have fleeting thoughts and curiosities about what another man’s come would taste like on his tongue. Pornos of blowjobs tended to get him through quick moments when he just needed some release, but he figured the reactions porn stars would give were just over exaggerated acting, and in most causes they were.

However, Rick tasted Daryl and he knew he wouldn’t mind the other man coming down his throat next time. He craved it. Daryl watched as Rick licked his own lips clean before moving on to licking up his palm and sucking his fingers clean; devouring the bitter taste of Daryl.

“Thought you look so thirsty,” Daryl smirked, his cock giving a valiant twitch when Rick sucked down his middle finger. He glanced to Randall, confident smirk still plastered on his face. “You enjoy the show, fucker?”

“Daryl,” Rick’s voice snapped Daryl’s eyes back down to him. “Daryl, please? I need to-“ Rick’s name being called from camp interrupted his soft pleas. Daryl growled in frustration, rolling his eyes and tucking his dick back in to his pants. Rick furrowed his brows and shook his head. “No! No no, please, Daryl. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“Can’t take that chance, Darlin’,” Daryl held Rick’s face in his hands. His expression truly looked sympathetic and his voice was apologetic. “Promise ya I’ll take good care of ya later tonight, k? Ya been so good for me. Gonna make you see stars. Now come on.”

Rick let out a frustrated growl when Daryl helped him up. He was pissed at everyone and everything to the point that he didn’t care if their camp saw him with Daryl’s hand on his cock. Randall had already seen them, what’s thirteen more people? 

“Hey, get yer head on straight,” Daryl spoke softly, still holding Rick’s face. “Promise ya, I’ll take care of ya when everyone is asleep, but ya gotta go see what’s up.” Rick would have snapped at Daryl, cursing him for doing this to him but the verbal attack died in his throat when Daryl closed the distance between them, his mouth slotting against Rick’s and fitting perfectly. Rick melted and whined, clutching to Daryl’s arms and opening his mouth for the other man to dominate the kiss. Daryl’s tongue stroked against Rick’s, no doubt tasting himself. They almost lost themselves in the kiss, but another call for Rick brought them back. “Like tastin’ my come on ya… Let’s me know yer mine. Now go on. I gotta take care of this asshole.”

Rick pouted but nodded, pulling away from Daryl and heading to the opening of the barn, remembering this part of the structure did not have a door. His stomach dropped with fear at the thought that anyone could have seen them; that Rick’s frustrations about not caring if anyone saw him on his knees in front of Daryl was just him not thinking with the right head. “Daryl-“

“No one saw, Rick,” Daryl was pulling his knife out of its sheath, Randall already starting to squirm and cry. “But they gonna be seein’ what I’m doing if you don’t go now.”

“Right,” Rick glanced back at Daryl. He looked down at the knife before looking back up at his face. “Just… Remember not to kill him, ok? You ain’t a killer.”

“Ya ain’t either, Rick. ‘member yer a good man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what I mean? I'm such an ass to Rick. I swear, you'll get to come sweet man.
> 
> Anyone else excited about next week and how gut wrenching S6b is going to be? My body is not ready.
> 
> Also, I want to hopefully manage just a quick one shot Valentine's Day fic. I just need to see if I have time. Oops.
> 
> Bother me on tumblr. http://vulgarsequins.tumblr.com


	5. I can give you everything you want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick heads down a self destructive path because of the current events. Daryl helps him once more, but in a bigger way than just physical release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm like... minutes late of posting this. Things get heavy this chapter with angst and feelings. I tagged sub drop just to cover my bases, so if you try to find it/feel that it wasn't really one, I get it. So far unbeta'd because my beta, finalomen is going to sleep and I'm an impatient fucker. So, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE THOUGH KIDS?! I'm so fucked up from it. Rick and Daryl are morons and totally married. You can't tell me other wise.
> 
> And Michonne. Girl. applauds. Rick too.

_Dale was dead._

Rick could feel his breathing pick up.

_Dale’s dead._

Rick could feel sweat gathering on his brow.

_Dale was fuckin’ ripped open by one of those dead fuckers._

Rick could feel his hands shake uncontrollably when he thought about what he saw. 

_Dale was in so much pain when I got there._

Rick could feel his chest tighten remembering the helpless look in Dale’s eyes.

_And I couldn’t even put him out of his fucking misery._

Rick felt sick. His world spun and his head felt light as he continued digging Dale’s grave; but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, stop until it was done. The rest of his family had been taken into Hershel’s home after the incident, which he was grateful for. Grateful for the enforced safety his small group now had, and also grateful that he could be left in peace as he work. Rick had to reassure Lori that he would be fine, that he had his gun with him, for her to stop badgering him to come inside. Besides, he knew that Daryl was somewhere in the shadows watching over him as he dug in guilt.

_Can’t even protect Daryl. Can’t even take the shot. He had to do it. So fuckin’ useless as a leader… as a protector. He ain’t gonna want a weak man…_

Rick let out a choked off sob at that realization. His shovel jarred his arms when it collided with a huge chunk of rock buried deep in the Earth letting him know he had gone deep enough. He was tired anyway; it had to be well past one in the morning anyway. Rick leaned against the dirt grave, not caring that his clothing was getting dirty. It already had blood on it anyway, what did it matter? 

Rick wiped the dirt off his hands as much as he could on soiled jeans before rubbing at his face, feeling his tears damp on his cheeks. What was he going to do now? If he felt like their group was falling apart yesterday, then this was the knife that severed bonds. Rick would be seen as weak, no one would trust him with their lives. Then Shane would take over and he’d be dead, Daryl would be- is- disgusted with him and he would-

Rick balled his fists in his hair and tugged, letting out a frustrated yell. He straightened up, tossed the shovel out of the grave before he started to climb out of the unleveled grave. His body was weak and exhausted, running on little sleep and lack of food from the day. It took him three tries to hoist himself up high enough that he could rest his waist and chest on the ground above. Suddenly there was a strong, firm grip on his arms tugging him out of the grave. Rick kicked his legs and thrashed against the force, his heart panicking and his mind thinking the worst. 

_Lori was right. I shouldn’t have been out alone. I’m going to die-_

“Rick! Hey! Calm down, man,” Daryl’s voice cut through his visions of his own body ripped apart like Dale’s was. “I gotcha.”

Rick stopped struggling after he rolled on to his back, his eyes meeting the stormy blue ones of the younger man. Daryl was bent over him, brows furrowed and watching Rick intently, checking for any signs of injury. Rick felt his body start to shake and closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at Daryl. Not after what he did, what he forced Daryl to do tonight. It should have been him to pull the trigger.

“Ya alright, Rick?” Daryl’s scratchy voice was laced with concern. He didn’t deserve his pity. “Heard ya yell a minute ago. Hurt yerself?”

“No. I’m fine.” Rick sat up, keeping his back to Daryl He scrambled up and walked to Dale’s body by the grave. The sheets they had used to cover him wear dark and soaked with his blood now. Rick could feel that sickness crawl up his throat again. “Go back inside. Almost done.”

“I’ll help ya. Don’t need to be out here alone,” Daryl made his way to the other end of Dale’s body, already crouching to help lift him. 

“Daryl, go back inside!” Rick grunted, struggling to lift Dale’s shoulders. His still didn’t dare look at Daryl’s eyes, knowing the other man would see right through his guise of collected mental strength. 

“Not without ya,” Daryl heaved his end of Dale’s body with ease, managing to move to the grave with as much grace as one could moving a body and started to angle his body in when he heard Rick grunting.

“Said I’m fine! God dammit, listen to me for once and go back inside-” Rick stumbled when he tripped over one of his boots, his heel catching the toe. He looked on in horror as he started to fall, Dale slipping from his arms to go straight into his grave. He shut his eyes tight. He wanted to avoid any visuals of falling face first into a grave while falling on the corpse of their freshly deceased friend. Maybe if he angled it just right, the fall would break his neck and he could just be done with this nightmare. 

But the impact never happened. He heard Dale’s impact, but as for his own, it never happened. No, instead those strong hands from earlier had a death grip on the waistband of his pants and the back of his shirt.

“Shit, Rick!” Daryl hissed, yanking him back to his body, both of them stumbling back before catching their footing. “Rick, ya gonna-“

“I have to finish,” Rick was already pulling away from Daryl but strong arms kept him in place against a firm chest. He struggled and wiggled his body in the confined space of flesh, cursing at Daryl behind him. “Let me go, dammit!”

Before he started another round of cursing, Daryl had shifted and hooked his arms under Rick’s armpits, hands placed behind his head. Rick went limp in the younger man’s immobilizing hold, making indignant noises to him. When Daryl’s lips brushed against his temple, he grew silent so he could hear him clearly. 

“Only way I’mma let you go, is if ya come back to the RV with me,” Daryl’s whisper was authoritative, but not belittling. “Ya can finish this in the mornin’. I’ll help, and ya know Glenn will too. Right now though, ya gotta stop. Yer gonna kill yerself and I’ll be pissed if ya go off and do that. Got it, Darlin’?”

Daryl waited patiently while Rick contemplated fighting more, but he knew Daryl was right. He always was right. He was the type of man that watched all the pieces and players before he made his move. Daryl let go of Rick when the man nodded that he was listening to what Daryl had just said and understood.

He wouldn’t look at Daryl though. Guilt started settling back in his gut and it felt like lead. They were back to Daryl handling things and taking care of Rick because he was too useless and weak to do so. His personality trait of being a leader, strong and confident, felt like just a charade to Rick. He couldn’t help Dale, and now he couldn’t help himself. He left it all for Daryl to fix. 

Daryl being the one to handle Randall when he couldn’t.

Daryl being the one to find Dale. 

Daryl taking on the duty of putting a bullet in Dale’s head.

Daryl taking Rick’s hand and leading him back to what was once their camp a handful of hours ago. 

_He’s still taking care of business when you couldn’t do it. Do what you were supposed to. What you’re expected to do. You’re their leader._

_He should be the leader. He does so much for us. For them._

_For me._

“Hey, ya comin’?” 

Rick was so deep in his self destruction that he hadn’t realized they were at the RV. Daryl was already up two steps, looking back down at Rick with the door open. His eyes dark from the shadows but Rick could see the concern there. 

“I shouldn’t,” Rick started, turning his face away. “Just gonna bother you more-“

“Get your ass in here Grimes,” Daryl grabbed Rick’s shirt and pulled him the short distance to the RV, dragging him up the steps. Rick stumbled in the dark while Daryl locked up the RV. It was pitch black in the shelter until the younger man flicked on a lantern; cool light illuminating the inside. “Ya gonna fight me if I try ’n kiss ya?”

“No, why would I-“

Daryl’s hands cupped Rick’s face and his lips collided with Rick’s before the other could finish his words or thoughts. Daryl’s body crowded Rick’s, the back of Rick’s legs making contact with the small dining table attached to the wall. He couldn’t help the gasp of pain at the harsh contact, his sore body not taking the hit very well. 

“Sorry Grimes,” Daryl only pulled away to apologize but was pulling Rick towards him as he sat on the bench at the table, dragging Rick down. The hunter’s kisses were frantic and desperate, pouring an emotion out of his lips Rick had not experienced yet from the man. 

It didn’t feel right to Rick in this moment. Daryl’s concern was welcomed, but he had no reason to apologize. Everything that had happened was Rick’s fault. All of this hell was Rick’s fault. He was the one everyone trusted. He was the one that should be apologizing.

_I should be comforting him. I should be the one telling him sorry._

Rick dropped to his knees in front of Daryl, mirroring his position from earlier that night. The motion took Daryl off guard, his brows raising in to his hair line. His eyes widened and dilated when Rick’s nimble hands ran upwards from Daryl’s knees to his crotch; making quick work of Daryl’s button and zipper.

“Shit, Grimes, eager?” Daryl sucked in a breath when Rick took hold of his half hard cock and squeezed. It took a few rough strokes of Rick’s calloused hand to finish the job of making Daryl’s cock stand at attention. The hunter’s hips bucked into Rick’s fist, his knuckles going white from gripping the edge of the table and back rest of the bench. “Oh, fuck!”

Rick’s gaze stayed on the task in front of him. His hand jerked Daryl quickly, on the side of harshly. Sky blue eyes that normally stayed clear were now clouding over with detached regret. Rick wasn’t regretting what he was doing, or who he was doing this to. No, the act itself was nothing he would dream of regretting; the regret stemmed once more from his own lack of responsibility of events that have killed members of their family and how he had forced Daryl to react to his lack of action. 

“Grimes, slow down, fuck,” Daryl grabbed at Rick’s wrist, forcing his hand to still. Rick never lifted his gaze up just slightly, eyes focusing on the trail of hair leading to Daryl’s heavy cock. “Don’t wanna come too fast… ‘sides, told ya I would take care of ya… We ain’t gotta do this now-“

“No, I wanna,” Rick started moving his hand again.”Wanna do this for you.”

“Okay, but I want ya gettin’ off too,” Daryl grunted and rolled his hips up, spreading his legs just a fraction. His boot slid higher up between Rick’s own spread legs, surprising a quiet whimper out of the older man at the contact he had with Rick’s unacknowledged hard on. Daryl licked his upper lip, an idea forming in his head. “Take that out, Grimes.”

Rick’s eyes widened and he looked up at Daryl, confusion clear on his face. He shook his head slightly at the request. Daryl shouldn’t be concerned with his own pleasure. He didn’t need it. He only wanted Daryl to feel good. He didn’t deserve to feel good right now. “N-No, it’s okay, Daryl. Don’t worry-“

“Don’t argue, Grimes. I said I wanted ya gettin’ off too,” Daryl shifted up on the bench, leaning over Rick. “So, rub one out against my leg while yer doin’ this.”

Rick stared at Daryl for a fraction of a second before averting his eyes from the other man’s off blue ones. He swallowed hard and nodded, taking his hands off of Daryl’s body to work his pants open, maneuvering his dick out. He could faintly hear Daryl hum in approval, a hand running through his dirty curls. Daryl’s other hand snaked its way down between his legs, lazily stroking at his length.

The hand in Rick’s hair tightened and tugged gently, forcing him to look up. Daryl’s lips found Rick’s in an indulgent kiss, his tongue seeking out Rick’s and tasting his mouth. Rick let out a soft whimper, his chest starting to tighten at the contact. He wanted to fuck into Daryl’s hand, but he refrained from doing so; this was supposed to be about Daryl. Not him. 

Rick broke the kiss and pushed Daryl back away from him, the hunter giving a look of shocked disappointment but it quickly faded into pleasure when Rick started stroking him with a renewed vigor. Daryl bit his lip to conceal part of his moan, shifting his leg closer to Rick’s crotch and pressing his shin against the leaking dick. “Come on. Fuck my leg, Grimes.”

Another soft whimper left Rick’s plush lips as Daryl encouraged him with his leg. He tried to focus on Daryl, but the pressure of Daryl’s leg and the scratch of his pants made his brain short circuit and focus on his own pleasure. Rick draped himself along Daryl’s leg and knee, pressing his hips against Daryl but not letting go of his cock. He jerked his thin hips against Daryl, a soft cry escaping while the tightness in his chest grew. Rick stared at the thick cock in front of him, leaning forward and opening his mouth.

“No, Grimes,” Daryl grip tightened in Rick’s hair, forcing him to stop. Rick hadn’t even realized he still had his hand in his hair. He let out a pleading whine, the noise foreign in Rick’s tone and to Daryl’s ears; the man never having made a sound like that before. The fact that Daryl’s dick twitched in Rick’s hand at the whine was not lost on the hunter. He would love to make Rick repeat that noise, only louder, but right now his greedy lover was being persistent. “Ain’t clean enough for yer mouth, Grimes. Just use yer hand. Come on, wanna see ya come anyway. My desperate cock lovin’ cop.”

Rick let out a shaky breath, his body shuddering at Daryl’s words. He nodded and started rocking his hips again, jerking Daryl quickly. Rick’s hand grew slick with the other man’s precome, his own body leaving a wet trail along Daryl’s pant leg. He could feel Daryl growing close, no doubt getting off on watching Rick rut against his leg like some thoughtless animal. Daryl’s grunts become more frequent, fucking in to Rick’s hand and encouraging him on.

“Come on, Grimes. Come for me. Come on.”

Rick bit his lip and tried moving his hips faster against Daryl, but the pressure in his chest grew. His breathing quickened a few paces and he started to grow light headed. Rick’s hand lost rhythm along Daryl’s cock but it didn’t matter anymore when a frustrated sob ripped from his throat. Daryl was pulling Rick’s hand off his cock and forcing Rick’s face up to look up at him.

_Such a fuck up. Can’t even make him come. Why can't I come? It’s going to be over. He’s done dealing with my shit._

Rick expected to see Daryl’s features twisted in annoyance, but all he saw was concern. Rick’s chest tightened more at the thought of upsetting Daryl and ruining this for him. The other man was wiping tears off his face and speaking but the words seemed drowned out. 

_When did I start crying? Fuck, so useless. Crying during sex? Get a fucking grip, Grimes. He doesn’t want some weak old man-_

_“_ ”Rick!” Daryl’s sharp tone jarred him from his self destruction for the second time tonight. “Rick, are ya with me? Darlin’ what’s wrong?” Daryl’s eyes were filled with a tenderness Rick hadn’t seen from him, his voice still full of worry. Rick opened his mouth to say that he was sorry, but all that came out was an awkward noise. 

Daryl’s strong arms pulled him up and held him close. His thin lips kissed along his temple and wide hands stroked along his back. With a much clearer conscious Rick would have found the image of Daryl holding him as something to laugh and tease the other man playfully over, but right now, he needed this. He had no idea how much he needed this; needed this from Daryl, needed this reassurance. 

“Hey, Rick?” Daryl’s voice was gentle, the other man trying to coax Rick back to a balanced state. “Darlin’ what happened? We ain’t gotta do anythin’. I just thought it might help, take yer mind off shit. Did I do somethin’ wrong-“

“No!” Rick startled Daryl with his sudden outburst. The older man grabbed at Daryl’s face, frantically kissing him with urgency to show Rick was not upset towards him. This wasn’t Daryl’s fault, this was all his. “I’m so sorry, Daryl.”

“Hey, s’okay, Rick-“

“I didn’t mean to make you mad-“

“I ain’t-“

“I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. It’s all my fault,” Rick bulldozed over Daryl’s attempted protests at trying to calm the other man down. Rick was starting to lose control, his pitch raising and quick with anxiety. “It’s my fault you had to shoot Dale. I’m so sorry I couldn’t. And now I can’t even make you come. I just wanted you to feel good but you’re still so fucking worried about me and it ain’t right. I’m sorry I’m fuckin’ useless-“

“Rick!” Daryl’s bark silenced Rick’s rant. Once more, his eyes wouldn’t reach Daryl’s. His face burned with shame and his heart raced. 

_Here it comes… When he ends this. Fuckin’ leaves-_

“Hey, look at me,” Daryl’s voice was back to its low, deep octave. When Rick refused to look, the hunter was on his feet, dragging Rick up with him. Daryl knelt and scooped Rick up, sitting him on the table top; the scratch of denim on their bare cocks creating a friction that was not in the comfortable range and flagging their dicks further.  Daryl crowded between Rick’s legs, holding his face and then forcing the man to look at him.

“Rick, I ain’t mad,” Daryl rubbed his thumbs along Rick’s cheekbones, trying to calm the older man but also let him feel his words as well as hear them. “And all of that shit sure as hell ain’t yer fault. Thing with Dale, it fuckin’ sucks. I wish it didn’t happen… Yer a good man, ya were a cop, so how the hell ya expect to be able to just shoot ‘em. I ain’t mad at ya… I did that for ya ‘cause I saw ya breakin’. Just wanna be there for ya, Rick.”

Daryl was gentle and compassionate with his soft kiss against Rick’s lips. Tension that had Rick’s body tight and rigid started melting from him as Daryl continued to layer kiss upon kiss along his lips and jaw. The tightness in Rick’s chest gave way and filled with comfort and warmth. Rick tilted his head back when Daryl’s mouth moved to the hinge of his jaw and ear, the hunter nuzzling his face against his sensitive flesh there.

“As far as makin’ me come, I sure as fuck was ‘bout to, Darlin’,” Daryl’s words rumbled in Rick’s ear, igniting his arousal from earlier. “But I wanted to treat ya right tonight… Ya need it after all this. Ya gonna let me? Can I do that for ya, Darlin’?”

Rick responded with a soft whine and heavy exhale. His doubt and self depreciation leaving his mind when he felt Daryl’s hands moving from his face to his neck, traveling down his chest and stomach. The hunter’s hands continued their trip until they reached Rick’s pants, gripping tight and tugging them down, surprising a noise from Rick.

“Come on, Darlin’, lift up for me,” Daryl spoke against Rick’s plush lips, the older man obeying immediately and raising up. Daryl made quick work of pulling them down his long bow legs, only slowed down in the removal because he had to yank Rick’s boots off as well as remove his gun holster. 

Rick couldn’t help but feel his face hot with the same self consciousness he first experienced the night Daryl sucked him off. He was once again naked from the waist down, but this time Daryl wasn’t as exposed as he had been in the bed. Thankfully, neither of them as injured as Daryl had been that night as well. His nerves grew when Daryl pulled the thin shirt he was wearing up and off his body, tossing it aside with his boots.

Now he was completely naked in front of the only man that could tear him apart and put him back together how he wanted. In fact he already had.

“Ya look good like this,” Daryl hadn’t stepped away to look at Rick, to study him. He had made a point to keep contact with Rick’s body even when he was undressing him and throwing clothes away from them. His rough hands stroked along Rick’s thighs, reaching his hip bones and dipping down between Rick’s legs, spreading them further. 

Rick bit his lip and closed his legs on instinct. What Daryl was doing, even if he only meant to adjust himself between Rick’s legs, was foreign to him. Counting the many years he had been with Lori, they never did anything that involved exploring Rick’s body past his balls. Their sex life had been pretty standard of a heterosexual couple following a vanilla sex life. Rick had only ever explored that part of his body a few times himself. 

Daryl’s hands had stopped applying pressure on his inner thighs, shifting back up to the safety of his hips and leaning back just slightly to focus on Rick’s face.

“Too much?” Daryl’s voice didn’t take on the tone of annoyance or sounded patronizing to Rick. It was steady and tender; yet another side of Dixon Rick had yet to see. “We ain’t gotta do this Darlin’ if ya don’t wanna. I’d be happy just kissin’ ya stupid if ya want.”

Rick continued to abuse his bottom lip, staring at Daryl’s chest and mising the playful smile on his lips. His eyes wandered as he contemplated letting Daryl see that side of him; gain control of that intimacy over him. He had given over everything leading up to this with an eager obedience. The one thing stopping him now was fear. He feared that once he let Daryl have this last bit of his body, his self, he would be helpless to ever want less from Daryl Dixon. 

It was so easy to spread his legs wide for Daryl after that. The other man smiled and leaned in, one thumb tugging Rick’s bottom lip from between his teeth before pushing a soft kiss against his swollen lip.

“Don’t ruin these yerself,” Daryl cooed. “Like ‘em too much and wanna fuck ‘em up myself.” Daryl’s mouth was warm against Rick’s, his tongue dominating Rick’s own in the wild kiss. Daryl shifted closer to Rick and groaned when their hard cocks brushed against one another. His hand still on Rick’s hip shifting to enclose around the both of their lengths and stroke. 

Rick broke the kiss to tilt his head back to catch his breath and moan along with Daryl. The hunter bucked against his hand and Rick’s cock precome gathering at the heads of their dicks. Daryl leaned forward to kiss and lick at Rick’s exposed neck, tasting his skin and the flavors of the day mixed along with his natural tang. 

Rick was not expecting the two fingers that were now invading his mouth. His head jerked down to stare at Daryl with wide eyes, the other man cursing when his got a chin to the temple; the force of impact also causing Rick to bite down on the digits as well.

“Shit!” Daryl tore his fingers out of Rick’s mouth and rubbed his temple. Rick was urgent to fix the situation despite his throbbing chin, hoping Daryl wouldn’t regret trying to move their relationship forward; to take care of Rick.

“Sorry, sorry,” Rick grabbed at Daryl’s injured hand, nimble fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling his hand back to his mouth, kissing where he bit down. Thankful there was no sign of the skin being broken; just a little red and warm to the touch. “Don’t stop, I’ll be good from now on.”

Daryl’s pupils dilated when Rick sucked down his forefinger and middle finger, his ice blue eyes matching Daryl’s own stormy blues. Rick still had a firm grip on his wrist, maneuvering Daryl’s hand how he saw fit, bobbing his head up and down the digits. In that moment, watching Rick blow his fingers, Daryl knew he would have to have the man on his knees soon.

But not now. This was about taking care of Rick. His Rick.

“I know, Darlin. Christ, yer so good… Always are for me,” Daryl forgot about his own dick in his hand but could feel it twitching against Rick’s length. “Now lemme do somethin’ good for ya, ok?”

Daryl removed his hand from Rick’s mouth with some reluctance, perfectly content to just let Rick suck his fingers all night if that’s what the other man wanted. He just had other plans in mind he wAntes to try and start exploring with him. Rick watched Daryl’s hand move between their bodies, managing to cover a fair amount of precome along his fingers that were already soaked with saliva. His free hand pressed against Rick’s chest, forcing the other man to recline back. 

“It’ll feel better like this,” Daryl nodded. “Can get a better angle…” Rick was stubborn though and didn’t lay completely back, instead, resting back on his elbows so he could still watch Daryl from between his legs. The sight of Daryl standing between his thighs with his cock hanging out of his low slung pants while his own dick was resting back against his stomach was enough to give Rick something to jerk off to for the rest of his life. 

Daryl’s clean hand took one of Rick’s ankles at a time and placed his feet on the table, exposing him better. His eyes never left Rick’s face with each step he went through to get Rick in to the position he wanted. The other man looking for any hesitance from Rick. Daryl paused himself for a moment, causing Rick to frown.

“What’s wrong?” Rick noticed his voice trembled slightly. He worried Daryl would think it was from fear and not the anticipation coarsing through his blood.

_Please don’t change your mind…_

“This all right?” Daryl nodded between Rick’s legs, waiting for Rick's nod in confirmation. “I’m gonna try ’n go slow, so it ain’t gonna hurt as much. Be better if we had slick.”

“Can ask Glenn and Maggie for some. When they go on another run?”

“Like hell. Rather get it myself then ask ‘em,” Daryl made a face at the idea of telling the younger man he needed lube. As far as he knew, Glenn was the only one getting laid at camp so it would just lead to so many questions he did not want to deal with. “Ya tell me if ya need to stop, okay Darlin?”

“I won’t need to.”

“Rick,” Daryl’s voice took on that dominating, stern tone to show Rick he was serious with his warning. “Mean it… ain’t gonna do anything ya don’t want. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Rick meant it to be mocking, but his cock twitched against his belly when Daryl’s grip on his thigh tightened at the title. That was something they would need to explore at a later time, Rick thought briefly before his mind went offline at wet fingers rubbing at his hole. 

He let out a sharp gasp at the cool sensation. Daryl’s eyes bore in to Rick’s own, taking note of every noise and facial expression of Rick when he started pressing the tip of one finger inside. He was met with so much resistance; he couldn’t help but shiver at the notion of how tight Rick would feel around his cock. 

“Darlin’, ya gotta relax for me,” Daryl stroked Rick’s flank to soothe him. The ex-deputy nodded, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to steady his heart. Daryl felt some tension leave and Rick’s body giving him the go ahead. 

Daryl’s thick finger slid in slowly, but he didn't stop until the knuckles of his other fingers brushed against Rick’s hole. His hand stayed still, letting Rick adjust to the intrusion. The man in question shifting and wiggling his hips against Daryl’s hand. Rick opened his eyes slightly to look down his body, licking his lips.

“Go ahead, move.”

Daryl held no hesitation now in pulling his finger out of Rick’s twitching hole, quickly forcing it back inside. He leaned over Rick’s body to kiss his panting mouth, setting a quick pace with his hand against Rick’s body. Rick opened his mouth in complete submission, letting Daryl’s tongue fuck him while his finger did the same to his ass. It did not take long for the awkward uncomfortable feeling of Daryl’s thick finger in his body to turn in to pleasure. 

Rick was soon rocking his hips against Daryl’s hand, needy whines and quiet begging leaving his mouth between their filthy kisses. Daryl broke away from Rick’s lips to lean his body back, but kept his finger inside of the other man’s ass. Rick let out a loud moan when Daryl spit down where the tip of his finger disappeared into Rick. The pressure from Daryl’s first finger returned when the hunter started pushing two fingers in to Rick’s greedy ass. 

The sound of Rick’s moans, Daryl’s heavy breathing, and the distressed creaking of the table under Rick’s body filled the RV. Daryl wondered briefly if this was the act that was going to send them straight to hell when they died in this world; having gay sex in a man’s RV that just happened to die hours ago. He would have to build him a nice cross or something to try and make up for the disrespect.

Then Rick shouted when Daryl found his prostate, and the man couldn’t give a flying fuck aboutwho’s RV he was doing this in. 

“That’s it, Darlin’,” Daryl groaned, turning his head quickly to try and get some of his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes so he could watch Rick come apart. His own hips jerked and rutted at the hinge of one of Rick’s hips and thighs, precome slicking the way. Daryl hammered away at Rick’s prostate, wanting to hear more of Rick crying his name. Heat coiled in his stomach, his orgasm fast approaching. He could feel Rick’s body responding in kind. “Fuck yeah, ya look so good like this, Grimes. Just for me. So tight. So hot. Yer ass is so greedy. Can’t wait to fuck ya. Yer gonna feel so good with me inside, fillin’ up yer ass with my big cock-“

“Daryl!” Rick yelled, his back bowing up and his hands gripping the sides of the table, knuckles going white when he came. His dick jerked against his body, shooting his load across his chest and reaching as far as his neck and chin. Daryl couldn’t help but moan at the amount Rick painted himself in, knowing he had been denied his orgasm repeatedly the past few secret meetings they had. Seeing his lover, his Rick, like this pushed him over his own edge.

“Oh fuck, Rick-,” Daryl thrusted one more time against Rick’s body and his own hand before he himself started to come; his spunk mixing with Rick’s excessive amount. The hunter stilled his hand but continued to rub against Rick’s prostate, pulling desperate whines from he older man. He stopped when Rick’s foot shot out and hit his thigh when he grew oversensitive. Daryl removed his fingers gently, eyes watching how Rick’s hole twitched and glistened. He really couldn’t wait for that to be his dick pulling out and his own come slipping out of this man.

Rick was panting, an arm covering his eyes and trying to calm his heart. Daryl tucked himself back in to his pants, wiping his fingers off on his red rag before cleaning the mess off Rick’s chest and neck. He leaned down and kissed the older man softly when he was finished, Rick having gained control of his spent body.

“Like that?” Daryl whispered to him. nuzzling Rick’s face like a cat and just taking his time kissing his skin. “Been wantin’ to do that to ya for a long ass time…”

“Really?” Rick opened his eyes to look up at Daryl’s face just above his own. A small smile tugged at his lips at Daryl’s nod. Daryl’s heart swelled knowing he put that smile, even if small, on Rick’s face. “I loved it… It’s much better when you do it than myself.”

“Ya done it to yerself?” Daryl raised a brow. “When?”

“Long time ago,” Rick’s voice was hoarse from yelling. Everyone sleeping in the Greene home must have been in a deep sleep to not have heard him. “Only a few times…”

_Wait, who was on watch…?”_

“Well, do it more,” Daryl kissed his ear, snapping Rick’s mind back to the present moment. “Ya need to be loose for when I fuck ya. I’ll get ya proper slick soon. Spit is shit for lube.”

“I think it did all right,” Rick shivered, the cold air inside the RV could be felt now that he was no longer over heating from arousal. Though, his dick did give a valiant twitch at the mention of Daryl fucking him soon.

“Promise it’s better,” Daryl wrapped his arms under Rick, pulling him to sit up against his chest. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” Rick’s arms wrapped around Daryl’s shoulders, his legs hooking behind Daryl’s back when the other man started to lift him off the table. Either Rick was losing too much weight, or Daryl’s arms were really something blessed by the Gods.

“Takin’ ya to the bed,” Daryl said matter-of-factly. “Yer cold, and I want to hold ya.”

Rick sure as hell wouldn’t argue with that, even if he had to hide his blushing face in Daryl’s neck at the embarrassment of being carried to the back of the RV. Regardless of the nightmare that started his dreams, it was some of the most peaceful sleep Rick had since the shit storm of the apocalypse started. Rick knew he had Daryl to thank for that. Daryl, who protected him and cared for him in this world and his dreams. Daryl, who kept Rick against his body and his arms wrapped tight around his waist and chest. 

Daryl, who was no longer just a fuck to help with his over worked mind and body.

Daryl, who he was falling hard for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come bother me on tumblr.  
> vulgarsequins.tumblr.com
> 
> I always get so excited when I see people following me or messaging me. Even if I take ages to respond. I'm so sorry!!
> 
> Can I just say, Andrew looks like a damn good kisser. Like, the different acting roles I've seen him do it in, it does things to me. Pray for my ruined pants.


End file.
